


Touketsu

by LupinGoddess



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:00:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27827923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LupinGoddess/pseuds/LupinGoddess
Summary: When Vegeta is captured by malignant forces, he is transformed body and mind. Can he ever make it back to his family, or will he instead embrace this terrible new existence?
Comments: 18
Kudos: 11
Collections: Dragon Ball Z





	1. The Present

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfiction is spun from a very old backstory behind a Dragon Ball character concept I drew back in 2006. I had always wanted to write it, but I didn’t consider myself a storyteller so I never tried. My character drawing had since been adopted by the Dragon Ball AF community where he is better known as "Kidnapped". Thank you to Undo 64 for inquiring about the original story behind my drawing and inspiring me to give it a try. 
> 
> About two months into writing this I FINALLY began watching Dragon Ball Super (I still haven’t finished). I noticed some coincidental parallels between my story and several episodes, so I was inspired to incorporate some references to the show. 
> 
> Special thanks to my brother-in-law Tomitaka for cross-referencing my Japanese and giving me helpful suggestions. 
> 
> You can see some of my artwork for this fic at https://www.deviantart.com/atrenbeath/gallery/70153444/dragon-ball-fan-art
> 
> This fic contains swearing, nudity, and violence.
> 
> Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Z, Dragon Ball GT, and Dragon Ball Super are all owned by Funimation, Toei Animation, Shueisha, and Akira Toriyama.

**Prologue**

The planet was dead.

That was the simple conclusion the young man, who appeared to be around 20, had arrived at. Dead planets were not unheard of, but this one should have been home to a highly advanced civilization teeming with life. The silence was suffocating in its intensity. He crossed his arms over his white and gold armor and took in the environment, its atmosphere a murky blue-green in color. Even though the planet's sun and solar system were intact, the sky was obfuscated by thick cloud cover preventing much light or warmth from reaching the planet. The ground was coated in slick, dark ice, and his breath was visible in the frigid air.

The lone figure had followed his provided coordinates and now stood amongst the frozen trees on the outskirts of an immense city, its jagged structures and towering spires glittering like icicles against the darkened sky. It was the planet's capital, but like the other cities he had flown over, it appeared to be devoid of life. It was as though the entire planet had been struck by a sudden and catastrophic ice age, albeit a very unnatural one.

The soldier's tail tightened around his waist unconsciously. He looked up at the tall trees surrounding him, still covered in their foliage. The icicles that hung from the encapsulated trees had the appearance of smokey, translucent stone. Levitating up a bit, he grasped one of the tree limbs and snapped it off. Levitating back down, he hefted the object experimentally. He then swung the tree limb over his head and brought it down hard upon the ground. The entire piece shattered like glass, the particles sparkling in the meager light before disappearing into the darkness. He straightened and arched an eyebrow in curiosity. It was bizarre; it was as though the object trapped within the ice had been touched by liquid nitrogen, its composition fundamentally changed. He had already bore witness to many strange anomalies throughout the universe in his line of work, but this was new to him. His hand drifted up to a device that covered his left ear and eye and activated it.

"Nappa. Radditz. Did you find anything?" he demanded.

"No, Prince Vegeta," Nappa answered. I've scoured the entire Western half of the planet.

"I haven't found a thing in the Southern hemisphere." Raditz replied.

"Where does Frieza get his information anyway?" Vegeta grumbled to himself. "This was supposed to be one of the most prosperous planets in this quadrant. We can't exactly do our jobs and purge the planet for buyers if there's nothing left to purge…and nothing of value to obtain, for that matter."

"If we report back that this place was scrubbed of its resources Frieza could have our hides," Raditz muttered nervously in a crackle of static.

"Hn. Maybe. Depends on his mood," Vegeta replied, though he wasn't terribly concerned. Frieza still had use for his Saiyans. At worst they would suffer a humiliating beating. So long as they didn't blast the planet into oblivion they would have the proof they needed that this was out of their control. Whether or not that fact would work in their favor remained to be seen. "Both of you continue to transmit your findings back to base."

"Yes Prince Vegeta," Nappa and Radditz replied.

Vegeta flicked the scouter off when he heard - and felt - a deep, low rumbling. It sounded like it belonged to a large animal. Frowning, he looked off in the direction of the not too distant city when he caught sight of what must have been some immense creature barely breaching the tops of several buildings.

Vegeta's ever present scowl softened into a look of awe briefly before again hardening. "What the hell?" he whispered to himself, more out of curiosity than anything else. Apparently there was some life here after all. Levitating into the air, he flew towards the city.

He had seen countless alien animals in his travels, but it was very odd that such an enormous beast was living in an ecosystem that couldn't logically support it. Most of the gargantuan animal was obscured by the structures, but its great crest of black hair rose above them intermittently as it slowly lumbered through the desolate city. At one point, a long, pale tail rose up to whip at the air before lowering down to again be concealed below the city line. As Vegeta approached, a single, baleful red eye peered at him from between the buildings.

Vegeta halted in mid-air just short of the derelict metropolis, and an inexplicable chill went up his spine. It turned its head and lumbered on. He quickly activated his scouter to get a read on the creature as it disappeared behind the taller buildings. Suddenly a deafening howl ripped through the silence, startling the prince as the vibrations shook him to his very core. The scouter was still calculating as the roaring intensified, and a deep purple light shown between the buildings and illuminated the cloud cover. The rumbling suddenly stopped, and the light winked out.

Vegeta continued to wait impatiently for the scouter to deliver a reading, but none came back. His eyebrows drew together in confusion. He then blasted towards the city and touched down in seconds.

Tilting his head back, he took in his surroundings. Many of the acicular buildings were still standing, and like the rest of the land the towering edifices and spires were completely encapsulated within the strange, dark ice.

He turned his attention to the Cimmerian streets and again activated his scouter. Slowly, he turned 360 degrees while he waited for a reading. Nothing. The fractures in the rimy pavement, a result of the creature's treading, were the only indication it had been there. It was as though it had simply…vanished.

Vegeta scowled. _Did I just imagine seeing that creature?_ He strained his hearing for several long moments. "Oh to hell with this," he muttered, again activating his scouter. There must have been something in the planet's atmosphere. This place was getting to him. "Nappa, Radditz. Finish up your recon and meet me at the planet's capital. We're done here."

In spite of harboring some lingering anxiety over how Frieza would respond to this bizarre news, he was more than eager to leave this eerie place behind him.

* * *

**The Present**

Earth, Age 773

Six years had passed since the Cell Games, and the little blue planet had been enjoying an unheard of time of peace. As had become the annual custom in Satan City, an extravagant event was held in honor of Hercule Satan's spectacular triumph against the biologically engineered evil. The city spared no expenses: parades, floats, games, food vendors, reenactments. Everything was poured into the celebration which only seemed to become more elaborate every year.

People far and wide from neighboring cities and beyond flocked to attend the grand event, including the Z Senshi and their families. Holding no grudge against the fraudulent Satan, they enjoyed the festivities for what they were as they spent time with family and caught up with friends. Aside from birthdays, attending the event ensured a reunion between the people who had since settled into this extended time of peace as they focused on raising their families and living their lives. There was one person however who never attended the event, not that anyone ever expected him to - his own family included.

Months passed since that annual celebration. Currently the gravity simulator was engaged at 450 times Earth's normal gravity. Vegeta, clad in his usual black spandex shorts and gym shoes, was completely consumed in his brutal training regimen. He had been at it for 10 hours, not even stopping to eat.

Getting lost in all-consuming physical exertion was the only way to outpace his thoughts. He was fully powered at Super Saiyan 2, a feat he had managed not long after Cell was destroyed and his old arch-rival had passed on to Otherworld. It was only a matter of time, in retrospect. He had all the insatiable rage and unfulfillable desire in the world to fuel the transformation. Goku had died with honor, while Vegeta was forced to watch the battle of a lifetime from the sidelines.

He had fallen into a period of inactivity after that as his mind attempted to process the abrupt departure of his rival and a life stretching before him without a clear objective. After a while however, he eventually fell back into his old routine. Routine, after all, was the only thing that ever made sense to him. While it had been months since the anniversary of the Cell Games, Vegeta found his mind still lingering on it longer than he ever had in the past. Time had not made things easier. If anything, it seemed to make things harder. It was like a wound that, rather than healing over time and scarring, it remained open to slowly turn septic. Sometimes he still couldn't believe that he would never be able to settle the score with that clown.

_Kakarot,_ he brooded as his thoughts lingered on the dead idiot. _Was our rivalry so beneath your notice? Was I?_ To simply turn down being wished back as though it was no big deal. That bastard had no idea what he was doing to him. Vegeta's ki flared in rage at the mere thought, and he laid into the training bots, destroying them all within seconds. He dropped to the floor before walking over to the control panel and disengaging the simulator in disgust, dropping his transformation a moment later. The grueling workout had barely taken the edge off.

"Continuing on at Super Saiyan 2 with this inadequate equipment would just be a further waste of my time," he muttered as he bent down to pick up a towel before wiping his face and chest. He threw it over his shoulder, opened the door, and exited down the ramp.

After Goku had died during the Cell Games and Gohan's power soared to new heights, Vegeta had found himself yet again in the position of second best. Long since then however Gohan had failed to push himself in his training; he just didn't have the fighting heart. Coupled with his father's absence and his overbearing mother's drive for his education, Gohan's strength had all but plateaued while Vegeta never slowed down in his training.

_What a waste,_ he thought with a shake of his head. Gohan would have made an excellent sparring partner, though Vegeta's pride would have never allowed it. Chi-Chi wouldn't have allowed it either, for that matter. He headed towards the house that had become his home nearly a decade ago.

Bulma was just getting herself a canned coffee from the fridge when Vegeta entered. She left the fridge door open and stepped back as he made his way towards it, letting her hand trail down his back affectionately when he stooped down to dig out a bottle of water. He didn't acknowledge her.

"Hey you," she she said, smiling. "I'm taking Trunks to the zoo this afternoon. I know it isn't your thing, but I'd really like you to join us this time."

Vegeta straightened and chugged back the water while she spoke. _If you wanted to look at an animal in a cage you could have just stayed home,_ he thought bitterly. He accompanied them to that "zoo" once before and that was enough for him. Throngs of obnoxious humans and their noisy young milling about, gawking at wan looking beasts in enclosures. Those captive animals were a little too relatable right now.

He lowered the bottle and gave a terse shake of his head, not looking her way as he left the kitchen to go upstairs for a shower.

Bulma huffed and trailed after him. His non-verbal answer was no surprise. He almost never joined them in doing anything remotely social, not that she would ever stop extending the invitation. He had always been one to keep to himself, but he had become more and more reticent in the past few months. Lately, his withdrawal had been extending to the only two people he allowed in his circle. It wasn't an observation that gave Bulma any comfort. She almost never pressed him into social activities, but she felt this instance warranted it.

"Hey, Vegeta," she began hesitantly, as he began climbing the stairs. "Is something wrong?" She followed behind him. She didn't want to push his buttons if she could help it, but he would never open up willingly. He had been moping around for months now.

"Nothing is wrong, woman."

"Come on, Vegeta don't use that line with me because it won't work," she sighed as she followed him into their bedroom.

"I've been thinking."

"About what?"

"Things."

"Well what sort of things?"

"Nothing you would understand," he snapped over his shoulder.

Bulma recognized that edge in his voice and backed off before he shut down completely. "Alright," she said in surrender as he entered their adjoining bathroom and closed the door.

She walked over and leaned up against it for a moment, crossing her arms. "You can talk to me you know, if you change your mind." There was no reply, only the sound of the shower starting. With a weary shake of her head, she left the room to get Trunks and enjoy their afternoon together.

When they returned early evening Vegeta was gone. Bulma fumed silently to herself. It was typical of him to up and leave without notice, and it was something she had come to begrudgingly accept from him over the years, not that she had ever liked it. There had been an uptick in his sudden departures, however. Coupled with his withdrawal, and it only increased her concern. There was something going on with him, and the longer his sullenness wore on, the longer it ate at her.


	2. Family

**Family**

Glittering stars blanketed the moonless night sky that stretched over the arid badlands. Vegeta sat upon a plateau lost in thought, his arm resting upon one drawn up knee. A breeze rustled through his hair and his light training clothes as he stared out at the eroded rock formations, their strange forms looking like twisted silhouettes.

He was sitting in the desert region where he had first battled Goku, the turning point in his life. It was the point when his whole world was turned upside down. It wasn't the first time he had found himself reflecting on that day; back when he was training for the upcoming battle with the Androids his thoughts frequently shifted to that first humiliating, jarring defeat. In his mind, analyzing was the only way to make any sense of a failure and avoid repeating the same mistake. More often than not though, it just seemed to drag him down further into the depths of his own mind. In that dark place, he never came up with any solutions, only more confusion.

Now in particular he felt conflicted about it. It was here that the events that lead up to his liberation from Frieza were set in motion. But at what cost? He had to die a slow, painful, humiliating death before he could be free of the emperor's reign. Unbidden, his mind strayed to that horrible day, the day he poured out his soul to his rival as quickly as his life's blood left him.

At the shameful memory of the outpouring of pent up emotion, he remembered the words of his father. At the time, the king had been berating a 3 year old Vegeta for his youthful, emotional displays.

" _Emotions can get you killed on the battlefield. They can make you sloppy in your technique, and they can take away your focus. They can be used against you by an enemy. Do not ever show an enemy the effect he has on your mind."_

It was advice that served Vegeta well during his entire tenure in the Planet Trade Organization. It was this advice in the form of an impassioned plea that he left with Goku as he lay dying in the bloody soil on Namek.

" _Forget about your feelings. They'll get you killed! They'll get you killed, Kakarot!"_

" _I can't. I can't change who I am - not on the battlefield. My feelings are my guide."_

Vegeta had been brought back to life only to have to live with more shame. It would not be he to avenge his fallen race, but Goku. Vegeta drew only marginal solace in the fact that it was his son from the future that ultimately put an end to Frieza. It was his rival however that had been the first to ascend and go on to become the Legendary: The Saiyan Messiah.

Vegeta was the prince of his people, the son of the king of the greatest warrior race the universe had ever known…or so he had been brought up to believe. Strength was everything to the Saiyan people. The strongest was the leader of his people. Period. If he was not the strongest, what did that make of him? What would his father think of him? Sighing, he lowered his head into the crook of his arm.

Vegeta's thoughts lingered on the man. He had not just been his father; he was his king. He had been very young, but he remembered how proud he was to be his son. His father was powerful, wise, and respected, and Vegeta was determined to be a great king, just like him. He had once looked upon him with nothing but deep admiration and respect. That is, until the day he handed him over to the tyrant that would hold him in bondage for the better part of his life. The betrayal he felt when his father announced that he would be living with Frieza was almost crippling.

Vegeta raised his head again to stare out at nothing. "He had no problem handing the heir to the Saiyan throne over to Frieza," he muttered to no one. " 'To preserve the ways of our people,' you told me. Huh. Yes, father." He scowled. "Or maybe you were just a coward. For all you preached to me of Saiyan strength, pride, heritage…you were in the end just a fucking coward." His thoughts drifted to his father's parting words of encouragement the day he left his planet forever to serve Frieza.

" _There will come a day when the Saiyan Nation will overthrow Frieza and his Galactic Army. On that day I will come for you, my son, and you will be the next great king of Planet Vegeta."_

Vegeta's features tightened. "…A coward and a liar, _"_ he hissed. He resented his father but still, sometimes he wondered what he would think of him now: settling down with a human woman, siring a hybrid…coming second in strength to a third class Saiyan. He snarled inwardly. _Well, father's long dead so what does it matter_?

He lay down on his back, one hand behind his head and the other on his stomach as he looked up at the expanse of stars above. He certainly had changed, but he wasn't so sure it was for the better. From the day he came into Frieza's service onward he had been concerned only with his own survival. He had no attachments to anyone, no obligations to fulfill to anyone but himself. His objective was simple: destroy Frieza and take his rightful place as the emperor of the universe. He would serve no one ever again.

Then he died.

When he came to this planet, his sense of direction and self were all but destroyed. His death on Namek finalized his old life, yet it wasn't completely gone. It followed him around like his shadow, and it haunted his memories. He didn't know if his frequent nightmares were conjurings of that past life or subconscious recollections of his brief time in Hell. They seemed about the same.

Things were so different now. Nearly ten years he had been living on this planet. He had never stayed on any planet for as long as he had here. Looking back, he had certainly never intended to stay here long. Upon learning of his destined death at the hands of the Androids, he had only stayed to train and finally ascend to the ranks of greatness as a Super Saiyan, facing the android threat head-on. After he defeated them he would crush Kakarot once and for all - and maybe destroy his precious Earth too. He would prove his worth to his dead father; he would at last prove it to himself. But then, the woman happened. Trunks happened. The Androids arrived. Cell arrived. And then…nothing. No battle on the horizon. No adversary to prove himself against. No purpose. Save, he supposed, his service to his wife and son.

During those three years before the arrival of the Androids he could bullshit himself as to why he stayed at Capsule Corp. He could tell himself that it was because of the company's state-of the-art training equipment, or that Bulma was a gorgeous woman and a convenient lay, or that she made him feel like a man at a time when he was filled with self doubt and felt like anything but. The truth of the matter, however, was that he had fallen for her. It wasn't immediate, but little by little he fell for her completely. He fell for her compassion, her unparalleled intelligence, her perseverance, her sense of humor, and yes, even her bravery. She'd have to be brave to associate with the likes of him. She had never given up on him.

Yes, he had grown to care for both Bulma and Trunks deeply. But…these past six years of peace felt like six years of complacency to him. He was continually encouraged by the progress his son made in his training, but his pride in his son was slowly being overshadowed by the growing emptiness he felt inside. He needed something more. It was something Bulma could never understand. His lust for battle and conquest could never be quenched. It was in his blood, and without it, he didn't feel whole.

With difficulty, he pushed the poisonous thoughts and old memories back down into the depths of his heart until he felt numb once more. Emotional detachment was a skill that had once been second nature to him. Indeed, it had been necessary during his days as a soldier in the Galactic Army. If he didn't give a shit about anything - his planet, his father, his people - then he couldn't miss them. Crippling loss only came if one cared, and a warrior could not afford to be crippled. Over the years however he found he had to make a conscious effort to shove such thoughts away. He could probably blame his family for that.

With a sigh, he draped his arm over his eyes.

* * *

Bulma awoke from her slumber at 3:00 am when she heard the balcony door to their bedroom slide open. She had her back to Vegeta and feigned sleep, listening to him as he got undressed and slid into bed next to her. He lay on his side, facing away. Bulma bit her lip and deliberated for a moment.

Vegeta felt his wife press up against him, one hand snaking under his arm and across his ribs, her hand finally resting over his heart. He slowly released his breath and closed his eyes as he felt the tension in his body leave in surrender. Shit. She always had a way of making him feel guilty simply by _caring_.

They lay that way in silence together for a while. Vegeta was wide awake as he listened to his wife breathing, her breath barely tickling the back of his neck. He finally concluded she had fallen asleep until she spoke, her voice the softest whisper.

"Please talk to me. What's wrong?"

He exhaled through his nose in consternation. He couldn't articulate to her what was troubling him, never mind that he didn't want to. He was never one to bare his emotions. The mere thought of trying to communicate all the myriad thoughts in his head made him want to pass out in exhaustion. Bulma however had always been able to read him like a book, and she had a stubbornness to match his own. She wasn't going to let this go, but that didn't mean he was going to spill his guts to her.

"Nothing is wrong, woman. I just left to train elsewhere tonight."

"Could you at least let me know beforehand if you're going to leave?"

"What difference does it make when and where I go?"

"It just bothers me is all," she sighed as she hugged him from behind, relishing in the now rare closeness. He was always so warm. Goku also had always radiated heat even just when standing nearby, so she had long since chalked up Vegeta's elevated body temperature to being a Saiyan thing. The uptick in Vegeta's extended, nightly departures left the bed feeling colder than she had ever remembered.

"You've been gone… a lot more lately," she ventured. "Vegeta, about earlier, it wasn't really about going out to the zoo. It's not about going to parades, or the park, or the movies. It's about spending some time with us."

"What are you talking about," he grumbled. "We live together, don't we?"

She sighed. "You've been absent a lot lately. I kinda feel like we're…losing you, a little." When she was met with silence she continued, "You don't think Trunks wants to spend more time with you?"

Vegeta looked over his shoulder at her and scoffed. "Nonsense. I train with the boy every day."

"You don't think Trunks wants to do more with you than just train?"

"No," he answered peevishly, dropping his head back to his pillow. "He enjoys our training sessions. It's enough."

Now very awake, Bulma decided to announce a plan she had been considering for a while. "Trunk's 7th birthday is coming up in less than a month."

"I'm well aware of that, woman," he drawled.

"Well, I was thinking about taking him on a Dragon Ball hunt."

Vegeta raised an eyebrow at this. _Alone?_ He didn't harbor the same concerns when she took Trunks with her into the city for a shopping excursion or one of their frequent trips to the zoo or park. Bulma however could be absolutely fool-hardy when it came to exploration and adventure. There was something about the prospect of traveling into the unknown that brought out her risk-taking side. It was very Saiyan of her…and that didn't give him much peace of mind. She was so goddamn weak.

"What the hell for?" he asked neutrally. "The boy is spoiled enough as it is. Now you want to let him make three wishes?"

Bulma propped herself up on one arm and leaned down over him. "I never said I'd allow him to make any wish he wants. We'll decide on that together, geez. But that's not the point. He's never gone on one, and I thought it would be a great experience for him. We'd be traveling to new places, experiencing other cultures…"

"And you wish to disrupt his education for that?" he asked, looking up at the insistent woman leaning over him.

"I won't be disrupting anything, smart guy," she said, poking him in the shoulder. "He can attend his classes remotely, it's not a big deal. Besides, I've been supplementing his education with college level math, physics, and engineering. Have you forgotten that you married a genius?"

Rolling over onto his back, he smirked up at her. "How could I? You remind me enough about it." They were very alike in how they both strived to be the best - and they shared a vested interest in ensuring their son would also be the best in what he did. Vegeta's expression grew serious again. "Hn. You're seriously going to go gallivanting across this mudball with our barely 7 year old son? You are far too weak to defend yourself and he is too inexperienced to defend you without possibly blowing up a city in the process."

"Does that mean you'll be joining us?"

She was a devious one. He sighed in defeat and rolled his eyes. "Yes, woman," he grumbled.

Bulma's face lit up with relief and accomplishment. She leaned down and kissed him softly on the lips before resting her forehead on his."Thank you, Vegeta," she whispered. "I love you." She looked into his eyes for a moment before kissing him again, longer and deeper this time. It had been so long since they'd done anything intimate. He compliantly returned the kiss, but she could tell he wasn't fully into the act. Bulma conceded that he wasn't going to get over his withdrawal that easily, and she withdrew herself. She lay back down and settled next him. "Get some sleep, ok?" she said softly, not showing her disappointment.

"Hn. Leave me alone and I will," he grunted as he rolled over and gave her his back. He quickly added over his shoulder, "But I am NOT attending whatever ridiculous party you're going to be throwing for the boy."

There was a pause. "Will you at least be there when he blows out the candles?"

He dropped his head back down with a roll of his eyes. Damn these ridiculous Earth customs. Well, if it meant so much to her. "Fine," he spat. "Now are you gonna let me get some goddamn sleep or what?"

"Okay. Goodnight, Vegeta." she whispered. She snuggled up closer to him and kissed him behind the ear. While he hadn't exactly let her in they had nonetheless made some progress. For the first time since before the Cell Games anniversary he would be joining them out, never mind that she did a little manipulation on her part to ensure that it happened. Provided he didn't back out at the last second, they may be able to pull closer together as a family. Hopefully, he could leave behind whatever funk he had gotten himself into.

* * *

True to his word, Vegeta joined his family on the Dragon Ball hunt, if only to monitor his wife's impulsiveness. He did feel a lightening in his heart when they informed Trunks of their plans. The boy was overjoyed, and even though Vegeta wasn't exactly involved in the process of the hunt, his wife and son seemed to be happy that he was simply there. That was all fine and good with him, because he did not care to "absorb the culture" as Bulma put it. He didn't care what customs these humans had or what color they came in. As far as he was concerned they were all equally beneath him.

When they took breaks from their hunt to explore a city and visit the local shops, he simply relaxed on top of a nearby building and monitored his family's ki. He would never admit it, but he was surprised to find he was rather enjoying their little family vacation. He was still able to keep to himself as he preferred to do, but with the added benefit of some new scenery. Vegeta was a creature of habit; when he left the house to train, he tended to go to the same locations over and over again. After all, if he found a suitable place, why waste time seeking out another? Leave it to Bulma to break him out of his rut. He didn't even realize how bored he had been with his routine until now.

While he found mingling with any humans absolutely detestable, he did find himself becoming interested in the history behind some of the places they visited. It turned out, humans may have been more Saiyan in nature than he had ever given them credit for. Many of the places they visited featured ancient sculptures, murals, or wall reliefs that exalted battle and conquest: exquisite marble sculptures of physically impressive humans standing over their vanquished foes, or solitary soldiers dying with dignity. These humans of the past seemed to absolutely love conquest, for they represented war and battle with a sense of reverence and admiration.

Not so the humans today. Humans still engaged in constant war with each other, their weapons far more advanced than the swords and arrows their predecessors used. With the technology they had now they could decimate enemy forces more efficiently than ever before. And they did. Yet, they did not hold warfare in the high regard that their ancestors obviously had. Hell, when war was referenced today it was with derision and disgust. They were ashamed - and yet they still engaged in it. Vegeta stood in an expansive art museum, his arms crossed as he looked up at the enormous, beautiful oil painting before him. He narrowed his eyes, studying the romantic depiction of conquering soldiers gleefully raping and pillaging with abandon. _Hm. at least these primitive humans were honest with themselves._

Vegeta only had to step in once to retrieve a Dragon Ball that was out of reach. They were touring the ruins of an ancient battle arena along with throngs of other tourists. According to the radar, the magical orb had landed somewhere below the main level of the ancient colosseum, where gladiators had once waited in their cells before being summoned to entertain with their blood. This area was restricted from tourists and was almost completely covered by a nearly finished reconstruction of the battle arena. The adults concluded that Trunks was a little too brash and inexperienced to handle subterfuge, in spite of his protests to the contrary. Using his speed and considerable skill in keeping a low profile, Vegeta managed to drop down into the lower level without being detected. It was easy enough, the bustling activity of the chatty tourists above demanding the attention of the security guards.

It was dark in this section of the colosseum, the light above barely reaching. The sound of the visitors was muffled. Verdant moss and other vegetation covered what remained of the stone walls. Here, armor-clad slaves and prisoners were once hustled along to go up and fight to the death while amused spectators gawked down imperiously like gods from a safe distance. Vegeta walked the grass covered passageways where the long dead warriors had once tread.

At last, he found the two star Dragon Ball in the corner of one of the many prisoner cells, having rolled in when it impacted. Vegeta knelt down on one knee and picked it up. He held it up to his face, studying it for a moment before huffing a tired sigh through his nose. His eyes lowered. It was these things that ultimately led him here to this point in his life.

Very suddenly, coldness washed over him. He slowly stood and rubbed his eyes. This excursion with his family had been unexpectedly beneficial, providing a distraction from the ever present shadows that followed him. Turning his back on them for a time however didn't mean they had left. They would always be there. Just like that, the Dragon Ball summoned the darkness back. It was a good thing this was the last one, because he was ready to conclude this trip. Wearily, he tucked it into his jacket pocket and left to rejoin his family.

Bulma was a little bewildered by Vegeta's sudden withdrawal. He had seemed to loosen up a bit over the course of their getaway, and she was beginning to think he was at last pulling out of his funk. Apparently that wasn't the case. She sighed inwardly. Oh well. He'd come around eventually, right? It wasn't the first time he had fallen into a period of brooding. Deep down though, she couldn't shake the feeling that this was a little different this time.

In typical Bulma fashion, she had originally been planning on making a public affair of the Dragon Balls, summoning Shenron as a high point during Trunk's birthday party. Now though, she was beginning to think that it would be better to keep the event exclusive. Vegeta had made it clear he wouldn't be attending the party, and she wanted to include him.

Later that day, the three of them stood upon a tall, rocky outcropping that overlooked a seaside city. The sun was setting over the soft turquoise waters, bathing the white houses beyond in a rosy hue and deepening the warm color of their terra-cotta roofs. There was a brief discussion between mother and son as to what kind of wishes should be made, Vegeta opting to bow out. After a few selfish suggestions were shot down, Trunks's face brightened and he suggested wishing that the tiger population would recover.

"That's a great idea, Trunks!" Bulma gushed. "Ok, that's one wish. I'll go next." Bulma briefly considered turning back the clock a bit for her body, but then dismissed the notion. She didn't look _old_ \- she looked like a goddamn rockstar! She glanced sidelong at Vegeta. Well…maybe she could stand to perk her breasts up a bit. That way it wouldn't be a completely selfish wish, right? Besides, it was easier than plastic surgery. She'd have to cover Trunk's ears when she made that wish, though. Now what of the last one?

"Vegeta, is there anything you want to wish for?"

Vegeta looked off to the side, his arms crossed. If he could, he'd wish that fool Kakarot back so he could finally kick his ass. But of course, it had already been established six years ago that the request was off the table. Briefly, he considered wishing back his tail, but what was the point? He never would have thought he'd not wish his tail back if given the chance, but time and circumstances certainly had a way of changing perspective. He had settled down on an alien planet populated by a tailless race of people. He was a private person, and with a tail he would stick out like sore thumb. That was the last thing he wanted. Additionally, having one now would only serve as a very physical reminder that he was the last of his kind - a proud warrior race all but extinct. He was a prince of no one; a joke. He dwelled upon that fact enough as it was.

He looked back at his wife with an unreadable expression. Not for the first time and regardless that it wasn't within Shenron's power, the unbidden notion of turning back time flirted with his mind. If given the chance would he make the same choices all over again? Would he settle on Earth to this life of mediocrity, or would he take his place as ruler of the universe as he always thought he would? He couldn't imagine his life without his family now, but then, it wouldn't be possible to miss them if he had never had them to begin with.

Bulma didn't like the distant look in his eyes. "Vegeta? she prompted. "Can you think of anything?"

Vegeta scowled and turned his head away again. "No."

Bulma sighed. She chewed her lip in thought as she gazed out at the sky, the setting sun illuminating the few clouds above in soft pinks and reds as the day slowly gave way to night. Then it occurred to her.

"Hey Vegeta, you've never seen our Earth's moon have you?"

Vegeta turned to her, his eyebrow raised. As a point of fact, he hadn't. He had learned later that the Namekian had long since destroyed it to reverse a four year old Gohan's Oozaru transformation. His curiosity peaked, he shook his head. "No, actually."

"Would you like to wish it back?"

Vegeta didn't see any reason why they shouldn't. Besides, the sooner they made these wishes the sooner they could just leave for home already. He shrugged. "Sure. Why not."


	3. Purpose

**Purpose**

Between their return home up to Trunk's birthday, Vegeta had once again withdrawn. He was back to frequently leaving for parts unknown, not returning until well into early morning. He was always absent from bed by the time Bulma awoke, having gotten up to begin his daily morning training routine. Bulma barely saw him. It reminded her of the early days when he had been staying at Capsule Corp while training for the Androids: a stranger, more or less. Bulma was disheartened to see him slip back into his reticence.

The family dynamic seemed to have improved quite a bit during their getaway, and Bulma had led herself to believe that whatever was consuming Vegeta had been put behind him. That was apparently not the case, but she knew better than to coerce Vegeta into talking about it. As she learned from past experience he simply shut down completely when she tried. She knew she had been pushing her luck getting him to come on the Dragon Ball hunt. So, she decided to do as she had always done, and simply make herself available if he ever felt like sharing what was burdening him. It was hard not to push things along, though; Bulma was nothing if not impatient, and Vegeta's continued aloofness was beginning to affect her. The tension resulting from unspoken words was like a pall, and she began mirroring Vegeta without even realizing it: burying herself in her work and other activities so as not to think about what was troubling her.

Fortunately, planning for Trunks's birthday provided a great distraction. In typical Brief's fashion, she went all out for the party. A seemingly endless supply of food and entertainment for the outdoor event was provided, and all their friends as well as Capsule Corp employees and their families had been invited. In typical Vegeta fashion, the Saiyan prince made himself scarce.

True to his word however, he made an appearance to watch Trunks blow out the seven birthday candles on top of the elaborate, seven tiered birthday cake. Vegeta watched from the back, his arms crossed and well away from everyone else. At the very least the whole candle ritual signified that the party was drawing to a close. About damned time in his mind. That woman and her blasted parties. Bulma was applauding Trunks, as was everyone else. Near his wife stood her friends: Chi-Chi with Gohan and Goten. Krillin and his family. Yamcha.

Vegeta rolled his eyes. He had gotten used to their presence over the years, though Yamcha's visits still annoyed him a bit. The years spent with the woman instilled in him an atypical trust with her, something that wasn't forthcoming in the earlier stages of their relationship. In those days when his feelings began to develop for her he found it very hard to see any other males around the woman, much less her former lover. He eventually relaxed over the issue; she had earned his trust. Besides, that pathetic human had nothing on him. While it still irked him that he occasionally came sniffing around to "get coffee" and "catch up" he supposed it was no different from when she hung out with her other stupid friends.

Bulma had divulged to him some time ago how jealous Yamcha had once been over her early attraction to the prince. He snorted, shaking his head to himself. It was amusing to think that the former bandit had once envied him the way he himself envied Kakarot, though for different reasons. That was the ONLY parallel between himself and that scar-faced fool. Back then he had been so wrapped up in catching up with the younger Saiyan that he had been completely oblivious to Yamcha's resentment, much less the woman's attentions. It took a gravity room explosion before he finally began looking beyond her good looks and her admittedly entertaining personality. He saw someone that actually cared…about _him_.

Vegeta looked to the teenage Gohan standing near his younger brother. That kid was something else. Gohan had earned the prince's respect from the day he had arrived on Earth - which he showed by doing his best to kill the boy in battle and later by bullying him relentlessly on Namek. In his mind the tough little bastard could take it; while he was a hybrid he nonetheless had the spirit of a Saiyan. Later when they all faced off against Frieza, he didn't think twice when he slapped the kid out of the way of the tyrant's devastating energy attack. Vegeta had reacted automatically, and at the time he didn't know why he had helped. Later he realized that, at some point, he had actually begun to care whether or not this surprising little upstart lived or died. Maybe it was because he was part Saiyan. Maybe it was because in Gohan he saw a bit of himself, if only in that moment: a five year old Saiyan boy thrown into the world of life or death battle, now standing in the path of his own oppressor's deadly attack.

His eyes flicked over to the blonde cyborg, and his arms tightened as he exhaled through his nose. No, he didn't _like_ any of them, but he would always harbor a lingering animosity towards that toaster for humiliating him. As for her short husband he had developed for him a grudging respect. The diminutive monk had once been inches away from slitting the prince's throat with a katana. Though he was a mere human, he had guts.

Evening was descending, and the servant bots were flitting about across the lawn as they began cleaning up the aftermath of the party. Most of the guests had departed, though close friends of the family stuck around. Vegeta was passing the living room when he paused. Trunks and his best friend Goten were currently engaged in a fierce VR battle. Vegeta betrayed a smirk of amusement. _Kick his ass, Trunks._

His son and Goku's second born had formed their friendship back when they were almost still infants, much to Vegeta's chagrin at the time. Now they were practically brothers. Vegeta supposed having the little Kakarot clone around gave his son a good sparring partner. After all, there weren't exactly many Saiyan hybrids his age running around. Truly, as much as he resented Goku he harbored no ill will towards his children.

…But god _damn_ that kid's face.

Close to a week had passed since the party. Evening found Vegeta stretched out on his back atop the domed roof of his home, his fingers laced behind his head and his eyes lingering on the Earth's nearly full, reborn moon. The waxing moon had been half full by Trunk's birthday, and since then Vegeta had experienced a renewed focus on training his son morning and night. Their training together served as a balm to his soul, mollifying the sense of isolation he was increasingly experiencing. Now more than ever he felt that call to his roots as he reflected on Trunks's exceptional performance during training earlier.

Vegeta's perpetually tense features relaxed briefly, his mind wandering to the day Trunks first successfully executed his signature Gallic Gun technique; Trunks was only three at the time. The little boy's resulting energy attack was not deadly by any means, but Vegeta's heart had swelled with pride. Under his continued tutelage Trunks's fighting techniques were only improving. His son had incredible potential, as the boy's future counterpart in an alternate timeline had shown Vegeta. He supposed it was only fitting that his Super Saiyan son from the future - a purified version of his own flesh and blood - destroyed the tyrant that had made his life a living hell. It was poetic justice. Perhaps he himself had never been fit to do it, not when he had become a mirror image of Frieza.

A thought crossed his mind. _Trunks should be trained for Super Saiyan._ Why not? The boy had just turned 7. He was ready to be trained in earnest for the ascension. Vegeta of course always harbored a hope that Trunks would break through his limits on his own while they had their father-son training sessions, but he had never really pressed the matter. In his mind the sessions were a way for him to connect with his son without sacrificing his own training time; there was no way he was going to sit on his butt and play couch co-op with the kid. He conceded to himself that if the goal was to help Trunks reach his ascension, he would need to give it his utmost focus. He had to put all his focus and energy in attaining his own ascension (a frustrating, three year struggle, in fact), and even Goku and Gohan had to push themselves to the brink. Vegeta was ready to take his son's training to the next level, quite literally. For the first time in months, he felt a renewed sense of purpose.

* * *

"I've been thinking about training Trunks. For Super Saiyan."

Sitting at the dining room table with a cup of tea within reach, Bulma looked up from her laptop in surprise. "Really? I mean, now? He's so young! I'd understand the push if there was a pressing need, like preparing against Cell or something, but I don't see how it's really -"

"What? Necessary?" Vegeta cut in. "He's not going to lapse in his training the way Gohan has - I won't allow it. You know as well as I that a threat can drop in at any time. Just because the Z Fools allow themselves to fall into complacency doesn't mean I will…or my son will, for that matter."

Bulma bit her lower lip, thinking it over. She could already tell by the tone of Vegeta's voice that his mind was made up. Taking into account that this was a discussion concerning her Saiyan hybrid son, and she knew that whatever concerns she had would simply be brushed aside. He was set on doing this. And why not? Her son was as much Saiyan as he was human, after all. Vegeta however could be single minded when it came to reaching a goal. Unbidden, her mind drifted to the incident years ago when Gero blasted her hover jet out of the sky, and she and her infant nearly fell to their deaths. Vegeta had been right there and yet he did nothing, so engrossed in tracking down Gero. True, she should have never gone to a battlefield with a baby in tow to begin with. It was reckless beyond words. But, her faults didn't absolve Vegeta of his own…

Vegeta regarded her for a moment. "What? What is it you're thinking? Spit it out."

Bulma closed her laptop and looked up at him, hesitating to bring it up. The last thing she wanted to do was pick a fight. She had been walking on eggshells around him enough as it was.

Vegeta studied her eyes. "You don't trust me, do you?" he asked gruffly.

"Vegeta," Bulma sighed.

After the years they spent together Vegeta knew her mind well enough. He was well aware of his callousness to her and Trunks early on in their unconventional relationship. At that time, Trunks had come as a complete shock. Being a father was not something he had planned on. Hell, when he first arrived on Earth he was repulsed by Nappa's suggestion to sire Saiyan-human hybrids. Yes, he respected Gohan; he couldn't deny the power that hybrid wielded. But Vegeta was a prince and he had standards - there was no way he would lower himself to fathering a mongrel.

He still harbored the elitist sentiment when Trunks appeared into his life. He had just unlocked the power of The Legendary and was preparing to face the Android threat slated to end all of their lives. The revelation that he was now a father was just too much for him to accept at the time, and he grappled with his Saiyan pride knowing that his royal lineage was now tainted with human blood. Only when he was made aware that the Super Saiyan boy from the future was in fact his own son did he begin to look at the boy in a different way, not that it was something he let on.

Vegeta tightened his crossed arms defensively and turned his head to the side. "Look, the past is over and done with. This is now. I'm not asking for your permission, I'm simply stating my intentions. Got it?"

Bulma could see him putting his walls up again. She knew he cared about Trunks. Any doubt about it six years ago had been wiped away when she received word of his reaction after Cell killed Future Trunks. From that point on he had committed himself to raising their son together with her. Distant though he was, he showed how much he cared when he included his son in the one thing that was most important to him. Truth be told, she was encouraged by his proposal; he had been so withdrawn, and she had feared they were back to square one after their family vacation. This was a step in the right direction.

"I know it's in the past," Bulma said softly as she stood up from her seat. Vegeta said nothing, still staring off to the side as she approached him and lay a hand on his arm. "Hey," she said, reaching out to the side of his face with her other hand. She gently turned his head so he was facing her. "I trust you, ok?"

Vegeta's eyes softened, and his hand drifted up to cover hers. After a moment, he gently pulled her hand away. "Hn. As if I needed affirmation from you."

Bulma huffed through her nose in mild annoyance and crossed her arms. "Well, why don't you go tell Trunks what the plan is, tough guy."

Vegeta grunted and made his way over to the living room where Trunks was lying on his stomach on the floor watching TV, legs crossed and his chin lazily propped up on one hand. He was currently engrossed in a nature documentary about lions. A grizzled male lion with a dark mane stalked across the screen, the narrator explaining its behavior in a gentle English accent:

" _Male lions of a pride are regularly challenged by others looking for lionesses of their own. This new male has successfully driven off the other, and it has taken control of the pride. It will now systematically hunt down and dispatch all the cubs under a year old."_

"Wha? Awwww," Trunks whined softly in a wounded voice.

" _The lionesses are no match against the invading male's superior strength, and now that the cubs' sire is absent they are without defense. Killing the cubs are in the invading male's interest however, for the females, bereft of their infants, will quickly be brought back into estrus. Thus the future of the newcomer's bloodline is ensured. It may seem cruel, but this…is nature."_

"Boy!"

Trunks, unfazed, continued to watch the documentary. He had sensed his father enter the room, after all. "Yeah Dad?"

Vegeta's eye twitched in annoyance. "Look at me, boy."

Trunks looked over his shoulder at his father expectantly just as the marauding lion fell upon a hapless cub.

"I think it's time you learned how to go Super Saiyan," he said bluntly. "Seeing as how it's your weekend off school your training will begin tomorrow morning."

Trunks's mouth fell open in surprise before his expression changed to one of absolute joy. "Really?! You mean it?"

"Yes. Your advancement in your training up to this point tells me you're more than ready." Vegeta hadn't even finished talking when Trunks launched himself at his father, hugging him tightly around the waist. Vegeta kept his arms crossed and didn't move a muscle. "Alright, unhand me boy." Trunks did as he was told but was all smiles as he looked up at his father. "Your training will be intense so I expect you to get adequate sleep tonight. You'll need it. Now get your butt upstairs and start getting ready for bed," he growled, flicking his head towards the staircase.

"Ok, Dad!" Trunks tore upstairs to do just that, though his excitement would keep him awake in bed for the next hour and a half.

While Vegeta wouldn't admit it to the boy, he was rather anticipating the following morning as well.


	4. Red Sands

**Red Sands**

Dawn broke over West City as Vegeta exited from the gravity simulator, having completed his early morning workout routine. He wiped the sweat from his face with the towel that hung around his neck and looked up to the sky. The rosy hue of sunrise was giving way to gold, and Vegeta felt a lightening in his spirit. He looked forward to the milestone that his son would achieve. Yes, Goku had won the race to the Ascension, and if Vegeta no longer had the opportunity to prove himself against the younger Saiyan then at the very least his son would ascend before Gohan had. Vegeta smirked to himself. Beating out the younger, Kakarot carbon copy in the process would be an added bonus.

After a shower and breakfast Vegeta had donned his usual blue, light training gear, boots and gloves. He had made the decision to bring Trunks with him to a remote desert area for his Super Saiyan training. He didn't want to risk a gravity room accident, and given the boy's inexperience, training near any civilization was out of the question.

It was early yet, and Bulma stood by the doorway still in her bathrobe. Chewing her lip anxiously, she watched the pair as they walked past her to leave. She reached out and stopped Vegeta, taking him by the arm. "Hey, just go easy on him, ok? He just turned 7. Even Gohan was like, 10 years old before he went Super and he still had to train with Goku for a whole year in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber-"

"He'll be fine woman," Vegeta interrupted impatiently. "He's already stronger than Kakarot's eldest at his age. He's more than ready for this."

"Yeah mom, I got this! Don't worry!" Trunks piped up. The little boy was practically swimming in the yellow tank top and blue shorts he was wearing.

Bulma glanced over at her son. He was so little yet! Tightening her lips, she breathed out through her nose in resignation and she gave a short nod. "Alright. You listen to your father, ok Trunks?"

"K, mom" Trunks smiled.

"Now if we're all done here wasting time I'd like to get moving before the day is over," Vegeta droned sarcastically. "Let's go, brat." With that, the two took to the sky and headed off for their chosen training ground.

The massive, gold sand dunes stood out against the brilliant blue sky of the desert, the blazing sun beating down from above. Vegeta and Trunks touched down in the desert sands. It was a good place to train; the arid region was virtually without life and other than leveling a few sand dunes the landscape wouldn't be terribly affected from the training that was about to commence.

"Wow, it's like a giant sandbox!" Trunks said in wonder as he shielded his eyes from the sun. He had done his share of traveling with his adventure seeking mother, but this was the first time he had been to a place quite like this. There was nothing but sand as far as the eye could see.

Vegeta ignored his comment. "Alright, boy. Let's get right down to it. Now, in order to achieve Super Saiyan, your body must react in response to a deep need. Is there anything you can think of that you feel a strong need to do?"

"Well…I have to pee pretty bad."

Vegeta's eye twitched. This may be harder than he thought. "Just…go take a piss then, kid! We're basically in a giant cat box, " he huffed.

"Ok!" Trunks proceeded to do his business.

Vegeta grumbled and pinched the bridge of his nose while he waited for Trunks to finish. He glanced up, exasperated already. "Alright are you ready?"

"Ready!"

Vegeta rolled his eyes and made a silent prayer to the gods for some patience. "Ok, Trunks. Now, you must summon your energy and think of something you feel strongly about - something that angers you. _Rage_ is the trigger behind the Super Saiyan transformation. You must hold onto that rage and push your energy as high as you can go, then _keep_ going. Understand?"

Trunks nodded eagerly. "Yeah Dad!"

"And…NOW!"

"HEYAAAHH!" Trunks clenched his small hands into fists and brought his arms down quickly to his sides as his aura burst forth. The sands swirled around him and upwards in response as a small cyclone ensued. Vegeta crossed his arms and looked on, taking note of the little boy's rising power level. After about a minute Trunks's aura dropped and the sands collapsed around him. He bent over, his hands planted on his knees as he panted hard.

Vegeta raised an eyebrow. _That's it, huh?_ he thought with some disappointment. True, he hadn't expected much on the very first try. Still….there was that little part of him that had hoped. "So, Trunks. Share what you were thinking."

Trunks looked up at his father, and his little face hardened. "I was thinking about when Goten broke my Optimus Prime."

Vegeta blinked. "Your what?"

"My Transformer!"

"…."

"My Transformer toy, Dad!" Trunks whined emphatically.

Vegeta planted his hands on his hips and lowered his head. He let out a great sigh before looking back up again. "Alright, Trunks. We're going to try a different tack. You're going to spar with me. We're going to train longer and harder than we ever have before. You up for it?"

"Yeah!" Trunks yelled enthusiastically while jumping up and pumping a fist in the air. Trunks loved sparring with his dad. It was just about the only thing they did together, and Trunks reveled in the one-on-one time he spent with his father.

Vegeta smirked with pride. He planted one foot behind him, standing sideways, and beckoned to Trunks. "Let's go, boy."

They sparred for hours. Vegeta hadn't let up even to break for food or water, and the grueling training was beginning to wear his young son down. Vegeta barely took notice; his one track mind had taken over.

Damnit, how he wished he knew how Kakarot had gone about training Gohan in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber. Teaching a boy to go Super Saiyan for the first time was proving much more difficult than he had anticipated, and the doubts began to creep in. As a child, Gohan had faced threats to life and limb at the age of five, his year-long training before his and Nappa's arrival to Earth not withstanding. From then on, Kakarot's first born had been subjected to one battle after the other: he fought Nappa. He went toe-toe with Vegeta himself. He battled Frieza's men on Namek, even taking on the Ginyu force. He had even faced Frieza. He had prepared to fight the Androids and then trained in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber before facing Cell, becoming a Super Saiyan at the mere age of 10. A short while later on the battlefield, he had ascended to the astonishing level of Super Saiyan 2 to at last obliterate the seemingly indestructible Cell. It was all the more disappointing to Vegeta that Gohan had made those gains only to essentially say to hell with it and basically quit once the fight was over.

Then there was Trunks from the alternate future. He had made the ascension at the age of 14, and it took a lifetime of terrorization at the hands of the Androids and Gohan's death to do it. His son in this timeline had lived a safe existence. He had not seen battle _once._ Free-falling in the downed jet all those years ago was as close to a threat to his life that the boy had experienced, and he was obviously too young at the time to even remember it. Vegeta had the errant thought that if Trunk's future counterpart hadn't saved him and his fool mother, then maybe the infant's natural instincts would have been allowed to kick in.

Vegeta grit his teeth in frustration. His boy was weak by mere virtue of the fact that he _had_ a good life - a safe one, a secure one. Vegeta was suddenly overcome with the anxiety that Trunks may already be far behind. Perhaps he would never catch up! Here he thought he was ahead of the game, training the boy early for Super Saiyan, when in fact Trunks's ascension could well be doomed from the start. Gohan and Future Trunks had a lifetime of battles under their belt at a very young age. They were necessary for the transformation! Trunks's pampered, spoiled life was inhibiting that.

Vegeta's internal litany was interrupted. "Dad? Can we please stop and get something to eat? I'm really hungry!" Trunks wailed pitiably.

Vegeta growled impatiently. Spoiled and weak - case in point. "Trunks!" He shouted. "If you ever hope to become a Super Saiyan, you must push through your limitations. The more difficult it feels - the more you want to stop - THAT is when you keep going. Now get your guard up, boy!" he shouted as he ascended to Super Saiyan. Vegeta had been holding back before, having assumed that his base level was more than enough challenge for the boy. He had wasted enough time today. The kid needed a push!

The pair continued their sparring some 100 feet off the ground. The sun began to set, the softening blue sky fading to the horizon in graduated hues of lavender and rose. The now full moon overlooked their dueling, hovering like a translucent specter in a sky still light with the passing day. The sun meanwhile continued its inexorable descent, at last disappearing below the horizon. The dunes, bathed blood red in the dying light, cast long purple shadows across the land.

In spite of his missing tail, Vegeta could feel the moon's undeniable influence on his mind and body. It was something he hadn't expected; it occurred to him that he had never experienced the presence of a full moon without also having his tail. He felt more alive and more driven than he had in months. In fact, he felt almost rabid with energy.

Bulma had made an excellent wish.

With a cry, Vegeta ascended all the way to Super Saiyan 2. No more holding back. _This could actually be it. This could be the key,_ Vegeta thought to himself as he continued the relentless sparring with his son. _He's exhausted, starving, thirsty. He's been fighting the entire day and running on empty. He's up against Super Saiyan 2! This could be enough to trigger his survival instincts-_

His thoughts came screeching to a halt when his fist connected full force with the now exhausted little boy's jaw, and Trunks went soaring through the air before his trajectory lowered and he went crashing through a sand dune.

Vegeta was momentarily stunned, his transformation dropping completely. He then blasted down to where his son had landed. He couldn't see Trunks; he was buried somewhere deep in the sand. It was then Vegeta realized he could barely feel his ki. Suppressing his rising panic, Vegeta summoned his ki and with an outward sweep of his arms he cleared away the sands. His eyes scanned frantically for his son when he spotted a rounded object sticking out of the sand; it was the top of Trunks's head, his lavender hair barely visible. Vegeta quickly got down on his hands and knees before thrusting his arms deep into the sand. He quickly but gently lifted the boy out before placing him back down. The left side of Trunks's jaw was swollen and appeared broken, and the entire right side of his head was caked in dark sand saturated with blood. Blood streamed from his mouth and nose, and his eyes were closed. It was difficult to tell whether or not he was breathing. Rising fear for his son overtook Vegeta. He quickly put two fingers to Trunks's neck. There was a pulse, but it felt fluttery and weak. He slid a hand beneath his neck as he attempted to pull him into a sitting position when he froze, his stomach dropping: through his son's neck, he felt broken bones.

_Gods, no. What have I done?_ he thought frantically. "Trunks - Trunks can you hear me?!" Trunks could well be paralyzed or dead any moment. Vegeta visibly grappled with his panic and tried to maintain focus. What the hell could he do? Wait - there was a single senzu bean left in his nightstand back at Capsule Corp. Bulma had appealed to Krillin to secure her some in the event that Vegeta pushed himself too hard in his non-stop training. Gods knew he would have never asked the midget for such a thing. He was grateful Bulma did.

_Damnit, why the hell didn't I think to bring it here?_ he thought. The only thing he could do was to fly Trunks back home as fast as he could. He didn't dare entertain the thought that he may not make it. Vegeta cradled the boy's head and gently lifted his limp body up, pulling him close to his chest. Ascending to Super Saiyan 2, he blasted into the air.

____________________________________________________________

Night had long since fallen. Bulma was dressed in her blue silk nightgown as she lie on her side in their king-sized bed, her head propped up on one hand as she read her novel. She glanced up at the digital alarm clock on her nightstand and suppressed her feelings of worry. When the hell were they coming back? Damnit, she hated not knowing what was going on! Would that she could communicate telepathically like the Z Senshi. She wondered idly if should could learn.

"Wish I could get that guy to carry a frikin' cell phone," she grumbled to herself as she returned to her novel. She should have bought that smartphone for Trunks's birthday. He was young, but between him and his father he'd actually be the more reliable person to carry one.

Bulma snapped out of her musings when she heard the glass door to the balcony slide open. She looked over her shoulder to see that Vegeta had returned with Trunks. Finally! For a fleeting moment she thought that the boy had fallen asleep. Then she noticed the blood all over his head. Her eyes now wide with alarm, Bulma threw her book aside and leapt up.

"Oh my god, Trunks!" she cried. She tried reaching for him. "Is he -"

"Move, MOVE," Vegeta gruffly ordered as he dropped out of his transformation. He pushed past her and lay the boy on the bed, Bulma hovering anxiously behind him. Vegeta yanked open the drawer to his nightstand and after several seconds of tense rummaging he found the senzu bean. He sat down on the edge of the bed and gently grasped Trunks by the chin to open his mouth a little. He pushed the bean in, massaged the boy's throat to help it go down, and waited. The seconds felt like hours. Finally, there was a grimace of pain from the little boy as bones mended and flesh healed. Trunks's eyes fluttered open.

Bulma and Vegeta released the collective breaths they were holding. Bulma circled the bed and was immediately at Trunks's side.

"Trunks, baby are you ok?" Bulma asked, her voice trembling as she cupped his little face in her hands.

"Trunks - move your legs for me," Vegeta commanded. "Can you make a fist?"

"Hm. Yeah," Trunks groggily replied, wiggling his feet. He pushed himself into a sitting position and held up a small fist as his father ordered.

Vegeta's shoulders dropped as the tension at last left his body. _Thank Kami_ , he thought. He didn't look Bulma in the eye, but he could feel her gaze boring into him.

Bulma returned her attention to Trunks. "Come on sweetie, let's get you cleaned up," she said softly.

"I'm hungry, mom."

"Sure baby, we'll take care of all of that."

Bulma led Trunks out of the room to give him a bath and some much needed nourishment. Vegeta watched them leave out of the corner of his eye as he sat unmoving for several moments. Finally, he ran a hand over his face before getting up and going to their adjoining bathroom for a shower.

_________________________________________________________

Vegeta sat on the edge of the bed, now showered and wearing a pair of black boxers. He leaned forward and covered his face as he propped his elbows on his knees. He sighed, and his fingers raked up into his raven hair. By the gods, he had come so close to killing him. How could he have lost control like that? Bulma had not yet returned to their room. No doubt while the boy was being cleaned, dressed for bed, and fed, she had been interrogating him as to what had happened.

He looked up when he heard Bulma enter the bedroom. She had stayed with Trunks in his room until he fell asleep, which didn't take terribly long. Vegeta slowly rose, his dark eyes locked on hers. He met her furious gaze stoically, though his face betrayed the barest hint of the tremendous guilt he was feeling. Bulma stalked up to him and slapped him hard in the face, snapping his head to the side.

"WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?!" Bulma shrieked. "Were you thinking at all?!"

He glared sightlessly at the wall across from him, the muscles in his jaw flexing as he grit his teeth behind a tightly closed mouth. Accepting her expected wrath, Vegeta had not attempted to get his guard up. With as much as he hated himself in that moment he knew he deserved to be struck. Nonetheless, he found himself clenching his fists as he grappled with his reactive nature.

Bulma leaned forward, glaring at his profile as she laid into him. "Look, you can kill yourself training for…whatever the fuck. That's what you do. But don't you project your sick, obsessive tendencies on our son! He's only seven years old! He's not going off to fight Cell or some intergalactic warlord!"

Vegeta's eye twitched rhythmically in growing agitation. He felt overwhelmingly guilty about what had happened to Trunks under his watch. In fact, he felt like a failure. Is this what it was to have a family? To feel like a failure? He already felt like one as it was: Kakarot, Frieza, 18, Cell; just failure after failure after failure. He didn't need this shit. All the darkness that had been building up in him slowly over the years, climaxing in the last few months, finally clawed its way up to the surface. He never wanted a family. Apart from some enemy exploiting them against him, he didn't want to be the failure that his own father turned out to be, and he didn't want these attachments weakening him. Yet, here he was. Vegeta slowly turned his head back to Bulma, his eyes cold. If it wasn't for the woman standing in front of him he wouldn't still be here on this planet. His damnable pride reared its unrepentant head, and he redirected all of his self loathing right back at her as he doubled down on his defense.

"In an alternate timeline, our son did _just_ that," he spoke slowly, his voice low with barely contained rage. "He would be living in the hell those tin cans created RIGHT NOW if we hadn't been warned about them. This planet has faced one threat after the other: Frieza, the Androids, Cell! Oh, yes - and _me_. Are you forgetting about all of that, genius?! Our boy is weak by mere virtue of the fact that he is living in a time of peace. It WON'T last, woman. It never does! I'm training him to be prepared!"

Bulma was livid, and all her pent up frustration with him had reached a boiling point. She had done everything that she could possible think of to make things easier for him. She had given him space, she had offered him support, she backed off the moment he made it clear that he did not want to discuss a topic. She had tried to include him, and she offered him smiles and warmth even as his sullen attitude was draining her and leaving her cold. But this? This was it. If he didn't want to accept her help then that was on him. He was a grown-ass man. But to drag their child down into his personal hell was the line, and he had crossed it. She wasn't going to tip-toe around his issues anymore.

"You're training him to be prepared," she echoed, planting her hands on her hips. "Is that what this is about? Is it?" She looked him dead in the eye. "Or is this about some unfinished business with Goku?" His eyes flashed with anger at the mention of that clown's name. Damn her and her ability to see right through him. "Yeah, that's what I thought. It's like this year after year with you Vegeta, and every year you seem to get pulled down deeper over it. But now, you're dragging us down with you! You know, you were just telling me last night that the past is over and done with, and live in the now…but look at you! You're frozen in that time and place, brooding over something that is DONE and forgetting about where you are now! I just don't understand-"

"THAT'S RIGHT! YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!" he roared as Bulma flinched from his outburst. "You don't understand what it is to be Saiyan!"

"And whose fault is that, huh?!" she shot back. "You won't tell me anything, Vegeta! God knows I try to get you to talk to me when something's troubling you, and all you can do is brush me off and tell me it's nothing! I'm not a mind reader! Take some fucking responsibility and just tell me what it is you need, damn it!"

"Hn," he snorted in disgust. "Nothing you could ever give." Bulma recoiled as though slapped, and he took advantage of her momentary speechlessness. "I'm a Saiyan warrior. Battle is in my blood. And while you _claim_ to know that, you don't understand it. I'm not human, Bulma."

"No shit, Vegeta! I _know_ what you are, I-"

"Like hell you do!" He got right up to her face. "I _enjoy_ crushing an enemy's life in my hands. I enjoy battle and conquest. From the very beginning you've been aware of my past, but you were all too ready to look beyond it." His voice dropped as he looked at her intensely. "If you had actually been there, if you had been in my mind and seen what I had done, I guarantee you wouldn't have found it so easy to accept me for what I am." He paused, sneering. "You never knew what I was then, and you don't know who I am now. You only _think_ you do. Just because I killed under Frieza's orders didn't mean I didn't enjoy it. I _did_. My working for him simply satisfied a lust that had always been there and WILL always be there."

"Vegeta, we've been over all this forever ago! Why are you dredging this all up now?" she exclaimed, completely exasperated.

" _This,_ " he replied sarcastically, "has _always_ been here, woman. You're the one who refuses to see it. You and your race and… _Kakarot_ under its influence. You all wax on about your blasted feelings all the time so maybe you'll understand this: I _feel_ like I'm in purgatory."

Bulma was taken aback. "Wha-what do you mean?"

"This shit existence you humans consider a life," he spat. "Your pointless, drifting _peace_. It's living death to me."

Coldness washed over Bulma at his ugly words and she instantly felt numb. She wrapped her arms around herself and took a step back away from him. Swallowing, she gave a stiff nod. Her usually fiery blue eyes became as cold as ice. "So that's what this it to you," she finally replied, her voice thick as her throat began to tighten. She took a deep breath. "No one's ever made you stay here, you know that. Not me, not Trunks. You've always been free to choose what you want to do or where you want to go. If you're this miserable here, then maybe you should go find what makes you happy."

He glared at her for several moments before abruptly turning and making a bee-line for their spacious walk-in closet. Bulma turned to watch him disappear into the closet, her arms tightening over her chest as she felt her eyes begin to burn. She knew what he was after, and she bit back her crippling disappointment.

After a moment of rummaging he found the capsule containing one of the several sets of armor and uniforms that Bulma had created, largely unused since the Cell Games. He deployed it and quickly got dressed. He wouldn't stay here - he couldn't stay. He desperately needed an out. His tortured thoughts were a maelstrom of agonizing emotion. The call to lose himself in destruction beckoned to him now more than ever before. All his life it was the only way he had ever coped with the dark thoughts and chaotic emotions, the only thing that enabled him to regain some semblance of control. He didn't know where he was going, and he had no idea when he was coming back. He emerged from the closet clad in his Saiyan armor, tugging his white gloves over his hands.

At the sight of him leaving, Bulma couldn't help herself as her rage flared up again. He nearly killed their son and here he was flipping the argument and running away from her as though _she_ was the problem? She stalked up to stand in front of him. "Color me not surprised," she snapped. "You'd never let anyone call you a coward but then you pull this shit. You go on about standing your ground to face the fight but that doesn't apply to me and Trunks, does it? That's all you ever do is run off!" Focused on pulling on his other glove, Vegeta acted as though she wasn't even there. Expressionless and not even sparing her a glance, he brushed past her towards the balcony doorway.

"Well don't worry about us," she spat sarcastically as she followed after him. "Over the years I've gotten pretty used to you never being around. I'm sure Trunks is getting used to that now too." He stepped out onto the balcony and blasted into the air as she screamed out, "We won't miss you!" He was gone from her view in seconds.

Bulma turned her back, bitterly wiping a stray tear of overwhelming frustration. "Fucking asshole," she hissed, her voice cracking.


	5. In Shadows

**In Shadows**

The night sky was alive with light. The expanse of stars shimmered like cast diamonds over the snow-capped Imoy Mountains, the countless points of light coalescing into a gossamer pathway to disappear behind the looming peak of Mount Eroso. Beyond, the cold flames of the aurora borealis licked at the sky, the undulating curtains of softly flashing pinks and greens becoming one with the nebulous filaments of condensed starlight. Across from Mount Eroso the full moon shone, a luminous ring encircling it in a muted spectrum against the chill air. The snowy mountain range glowed preternaturally under the silvery light, and a lone comet shot across the sky in a blaze of golden fire.

The comet took the top of a mountain off before hitting the side of another in a deafening explosion of powder and pulverized rock. Still in Super Saiyan 2, the currents of blue voltage snapping and leaping off his radiant form, Vegeta rebounded off the now steaming mountain side, its snows completely evaporated. Roaring in rage he proceeded to wreak furious havoc on the previously tranquil landscape, punching, kicking, and blasting his way through the mountains as he fast rearranged the topography. Massive boulders and great tsunamis of billowing snow barreled down the slopes, wiping out everything in their path and covering the land in a death shroud of flat white. Vegeta didn't stop until the land below was completely obscured under the fog of snow that had been sent into the atmosphere.

Breathing hard from his vantage point in the air, Vegeta watched as the fog cleared and the land continued to crumble as it groaned in protest to his vicious attack. Finally it calmed, the latent rumbling of the last avalanche fading like the rolling thunder of a departing storm. He headed in the direction of Mount Eroso. This area had managed to escape the majority of his wrath, and he descended down to stand in one of the steep, snow covered slopes just above the timberline. He took a deep breath as he felt some of his rage finally ebb, and he extinguished his transformation. The land around him grumbled softly as it continued to settle after the onslaught, the vibrations reaching all the way to where he stood. Crossing his arms over his blood-splattered armor, his hard obsidian gaze looked out across the mountain range beyond.

A half hour earlier he had taken his rage out on the local animal population, hunting down a number of moose, big horn sheep, and bears. Combined with his fury, the full moon had had a profound impact on him. He had been feral and out of control as he slaughtered the animals with his bare hands, ripping into their raw flesh with his teeth like a beast. He barely ate any of the meat, his desire to simply spill blood much greater than any hunger. He then took to attacking the land itself, his path of destruction leading him to the mountain range. Taking his anger out on this stupid, mud-ball planet that had derailed his life so profoundly did wonders, but it could only do so much.

" _We won't miss you!"_

Her parting words were still ringing in his ears, and a snarl tugged at his lips. _Bitch!_ He felt like a weakling. How the hell could that woman and the boy make him feel so…undone. Raw. Vulnerable. Vegeta was plagued by the incredible guilt and self-loathing over the incident. The way Bulma looked at him filled him with shame. _Shame._ Him. There was a time when he didn't give two shits what anyone thought of him, but now here he was with a family whose opinion mattered greatly to him. He hated them for that - almost as much as he hated himself. He ran a hand through his hair as he planted the other on his hip. They had made him weak. The weakness that was family compromised a warrior. Frieza himself had trained him to exploit that self-same weakness to its fullest extent. In spite of trying to convince himself how little the rhetorical opinions of the dead mattered, he nonetheless began wondering what Frieza would say to him now. What would he think of him settling down with the Earth woman and having a son with her?

"He'd laugh and tell me I've grown soft," Vegeta spoke quietly in the chill night air. His eyes cast downward. "…Then he would kill them in front of me to show me just how soft I've become." The thought made his stomach turn.

There was a time when he was still young and impressionable that, in spite of deeply resenting the lizard-like creature and his machinations, he paradoxically also found himself desiring that tyrant's approval. If an all-powerful, intergalactic warlord like that told him _he_ was powerful…worthy…well then maybe he was in fact worth something. Maybe the stories his father had filled his head up with weren't just conflated, ethnocentric lies about his strength, significance, and potential to become The Legendary. Undoubtedly, if his own father had still been in his life he would not have looked to that pale demon as a role model.

He certainly couldn't deny what a fearsome scourge he had been when he was still working in Frieza's Planet Trade Organization. In spite of having attained the power of The Legendary years ago - in spite of reaching a level even beyond that - he felt weaker than ever. He had been harder and stronger before he had ever arrived to this backwater planet. In disgust he let himself collapse into a sitting position into the snow, draping one arm across a drawn-up knee.

…Damn them. DAMN that woman - this planet - hell, his son. He had become utterly dependent on his family: dependent on what they thought of him, committed in service to them. He lowered his head and closed his eyes as his brows furrowed in consternation. "Damn them," he whispered. He scowled and sighed, rubbing his eyes with a gloved hand stained with blood. He looked up to gaze glumly out upon the vast snowscape. It sparkled under the light of the full moon that hung high in the sky in front of him, the conifers casting soft, short blue shadows before him upon the glittering, opalescent slopes below. Then, from the corner of his eye, something in the snow caught his attention. He did a double take.

His shadow was moving.

Vegeta stood up in surprise. He stared for a moment before scowling in confusion. It was slowly rotating to his front, as though the moon was moving behind him. Incredulous, he glanced up. The moon certainly was not moving; it hung motionless ahead of him against the starry sky. He looked back down at the shadow and raised an eyebrow, perplexed by the curious phenomenon. It lengthened to about ten feet in front of him, darkening until it stood out in stark contrast on the pale snow.

Vegeta cocked his head, his brows drawing together as he took a step forward. "What the f…"

Slowly, impossibly, the shadow began to extrude straight up until it reached Vegeta's height while remaining anchored to his feet.

His eyes widened, absolutely floored by the bizarre sight. _What in the 16 fucking hells?!_ He reflexively threw his palm out and blasted the thing. The ghostly shade disappeared in the blinding light, and the ki blast traveled a short distance before hitting a mountainside, shaking the land in the ensuing explosion. As soon as the blinding light of the ki blast disappeared, the unsettling apparition had rematerialized before him. Before Vegeta could react it suddenly rippled to take on an amorphous shape before flying at him like a striking snake.

Vegeta instantly crossed his arms up over his face in defense. He felt as though the wind had been knocked out of him, and he nearly fell backwards. Quickly pulling his arms away, he instinctively held his hands out before him to inspect any damage to his body. Vegeta could only stare as his bloody gloves fell right through his hands, landing softly into the snow along with his uniform and armor.

He was a shadow.

Gaping in shock, he screamed in horror, but there was no sound. The silhouette of the Saiyan prince's shadow stood out against the white slopes behind him for a moment before it faded away into oblivion. Distantly, the ominous rumble of another impending avalanche could be heard. Soon, it would completely cover the area where Vegeta had once stood. Aside from the destruction the prince had caused in the mountain range, there would be no indication that he was last there.

* * *

After the row they had, Vegeta took to the night sky and headed for parts unknown. When he didn't return after a day, Bulma didn't expect anything less of the arrogant jerk. When he didn't return after two, she had begun to do a slow burn. That bum could sleep outside for all she cared. When she awoke the third day and he still hadn't returned, a sharp ache had entered her chest. Was that it? Had he really left her and their little boy for good? By the end of that day, overcome with a toxic cocktail of anxiety, hurt, and anger, she felt desperate to unburden her concerns. She and Chi-Chi were never particularly close, but one thing they had in common were pig-headed Saiyan males. Bulma didn't get the chance to make the call; as it turned out, Chi-Chi beat her to it.

"Hi Bulma. Hey, um, is Vegeta with you?"

Bulma blinked. "Uh, no. Why?"

"Well…I don't want to pry, but I thought I should give you a call. A few days ago Gohan felt Vegeta's energy signature over in the Imoy Mountains. He was very concerned over how high it felt but after a bit it went back down to normal. Vegeta apparently suppressed it because Gohan couldn't pinpoint it anymore, but my son mentioned today that he still couldn't pick up on him. Anyway I thought I'd check in. If Goten wasn't _grounded,_ " she said glaring pointedly over her shoulder at the massive hole in the wall behind her, "then I suppose I wouldn't need to be asking."

Bulma's brow furrowed. Gohan couldn't feel his energy? He…he didn't finally up and leave the planet did he? After all this time? She didn't remember seeing him grab a space ship capsule after his abrupt departure, and all the space faring vehicles at the compound were present and accounted for.

Chi-Chi's brows drew together in concern over Bulma's silence. "Bulma? Hey Bulma is everything all right? Did something happen?"

Bulma relented and sighed. "I was just about to call you about him, actually. Well - ugh, we had a fight. It was an ugly one. He took off, like, three days ago. I haven't seen him since." Bulma made a snort of false laughter, suddenly feeling a need to down-play the incident. "That's what he does though - just up and leaves. Saiyans, right? Who knows when he'll be back." She swallowed. "But uh," her voice trembled a bit, and she ran a hand through her bobbed hair. "I kind of…I sort of implied he should go if he's not happy here." She squeezed her eyes shut and planted a hand on her hip, letting out a sigh.

"Oh Bulma, I'm sorry."

Bulma's eyes were beginning to burn, and she covered them with one hand. "Do you think maybe Gohan knows more about his whereabouts?"

"Yeah, yeah maybe," Chi-Chi replied softly. "Do you want me to put him on for you?"

"Yeah, please. Thanks, Chi-Chi."

Gohan got on the phone moments later, with Bulma again relaying the nature behind his departure without getting into specifics. A fight between the two hot-headed individuals wasn't anything new to the teen, but as he listened on the other end he couldn't help but feel concerned. Gohan had spent enough time at Capsule Corp over the years that he had come to regard the last full-blooded Saiyan in the known universe as something of an uncle, if a rather cantankerous one. Once a fearsome enemy, Vegeta had allied himself with Gohan on more than one occasion. After the prince had created the surprising, last minute diversion that helped Gohan vanquish Cell, they had become something of kindred spirits. Ever since then Vegeta seemed committed to his family. This recent, prolonged disappearance wasn't like him - at least, not anymore. Gohan didn't imagine that Vegeta had left, but other than the unthinkable there could be no other reason why he couldn't get a read on him.

"Do you think he went off planet?" Gohan offered.

Bulma tried to keep her voice steady. "I don't see how he could have. To my knowledge he didn't take any of the ships we have at the compound, or any capsules for that matter. ...He's probably just laying low, you know how he is," she said more to convince herself than anything. It nonetheless wasn't a far fetched notion; when Vegeta didn't want to be bothered he went out of his way to make himself scarce. Knowing full well that the other Z fighters would be alerted to any destruction he caused it made sense that he would withdraw once he got his frustrations out. He didn't like interacting with any of them on the best days.

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Bulma… uh, I haven't been able to feel his energy at all."

Bulma felt a sense of unease worming its way into her stomach. "Gohan…what are you saying?"

Gohan reluctantly explained. "Well, a skilled fighter can suppress their ki for a time, but it's like holding your breath under water. Even if he was suppressing it for three days I should have…well I should have eventually felt _something_ …"

Bulma felt her blood run cold. It couldn't be possible that anything had happened to the arguably strongest being on the planet. Could it? Still, that pang of worry lingered. "Gohan, what do you remember from that night?"

Gohan hesitated for a moment. "That night I was concerned. Piccolo too. We had't felt anything like that from him in years. His energy was just so…murderous. So much so that we half expected him to start attacking a city. I was ready to go over to where he was and just try to talk to him when Piccolo spoke to me telepathically. He suggested we just keep tabs on his energy and location and be ready to intervene if we had to. He thought that if we showed up we may have just angered him more. At the time, when I thought about it I decided Piccolo was right. After a bit his energy calmed down. It flared a little before it disappeared, and Piccolo and I figured he had gotten the last of the anger out of his system before he submerged his ki."

"Do you think he might still be there?"

"I'm sorry Bulma I just don't know." Gohan gathered his thoughts as he reflected back on the sequence of fluctuations in Vegeta's ki that night.

Vegeta had always been a man of few words. Over the years of visiting Capsule Corp, Gohan had taken to feeling out the other's ki to get a gauge on his mood, and he had inadvertently become quite good at picking up on the subtleties. Those few days ago over in the mountains there had been a building sense of rage and violence before it finally peaked. After that it quickly began to ebb before being replaced with fatigue and a quiet, brewing anger. It was when it had spiked slightly that the teen detected something else. Gohan had dismissed the fleeting and subtle fluctuation at the time, but with Vegeta's prolonged absence he found himself interpreting that moment in a different way.

Gohan ran a hand through his hair. "Bulma, I may have detected something else in his ki." The teen struggled to put what he felt into words. "To me - I don't know, for a moment his energy felt kind of…alarmed. Tense, maybe. Like the way it felt for me when I had to face an opponent."

Bulma was flabbergasted. "What?" She whispered. "You don't think he was attacked, do you?"

"Piccolo and I didn't feel any energy that suggested there was anyone there. If there had been I don't think I would have dismissed that subtle fluctuation in his ki so quickly," Gohan replied a little guiltily.

Bulma bit her lower lip in thought, her features tense. What the hell could have possibly overpowered Vegeta? No. There was no way anyone on the planet could have gotten the best of the prince, much less kill him. Her stomach twisted at the fleeting thought.

"You don't think it was one of the Androids, do you?" Bulma felt guilty asking that; the suggestion sounded ridiculous even to her own ears, and more than a little faithless. By all accounts Android 18 was devoted to Krillin and a loving mother to a now two year old little girl. There had been absolutely no incidents from her since the Cell Games six years ago. And while her brother was by no means considered a friend, he wasn't an enemy either. Much like Vegeta, he kept to himself. Still, Bulma couldn't think of anyone else that lacked a ki signature.

"Well I know it wasn't 18. Krillin had felt Vegeta's energy too, and he checked in with me telepathically. He just happened to mention that he was at home with his family. I can't say the same for 17, but I don't see why he would have reverted to type out of the blue. It also doesn't make any sense that he would have sought Vegeta out specifically. If he did, Vegeta would have easily overpowered him, I have no doubt. It's just…not normal that he would be suppressing his ki for so long."

They fell silent. Neither of them wanted to posit the possibility that they were both beginning to entertain in the backs of their minds: that Vegeta was dead.


	6. A Dark Place

**A Dark Place**

Cold.

That was the first thing that registered when Vegeta drew in a sharp breath of shockingly icy air as his eyes flew open. He immediately screwed them shut again as he broke off coughing, the tiny ice crystals he inhaled turning to water vapor in his lungs. He gasped in discomfort as he lay on his back, his breath visible in the frigid atmosphere. He was freezing, and he unconsciously drew up his legs and wrapped his arms around himself when he felt bare skin. His brows knit together, and he sluggishly lifted his head. His neck felt stiff and his body numb as he briefly glanced down at his state of undress with some bewilderment. He dropped his head back down with a grunt before weakly turning his head slightly to the right, his surroundings at last coming into focus.

He was in a cave of ice, but unlike any ice he had ever seen on Earth. It was…black: slightly translucent but dark like filthy pond water. Eerily, it seemed vaguely familiar. Stranger than its shade were its properties, for the ice seemed to emanate a dim, blue-green glow in places, the only apparent source of light in the place. He was in a small clearing, and he could see out around him maybe only about 30 feet. Vague shapes of icy stalagmites in varying heights were discernible, their vertical forms looking almost like mourners at a wake. Beyond them, barely visible, were the cave walls. Their curving, conchoidal surfaces resembled the heaving waters of an approaching tidal wave frozen in time. Shivering, Vegeta lethargically turned his head so he was looking straight up again. Long, tapering icicles pointed down menacingly at him. He couldn't see the cave ceiling; it seemed to stretch up and out into oblivion.

_What happened? Where the hell am I?_ he thought dazedly. With a grimace he propped himself up on his elbows before twisting over and planting his hands on the icy cave floor. He pushed himself up on shaky arms as he drew his knees up under himself. Quickly, he again wrapped his arms around himself, tucking his hands under his armpits as he hunched over. _Shit_ , it was cold. Every breath of the heart-stopping, gelid air actually burned the inside of his nostrils and his throat. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on channeling his ki in an effort to warm himself.

Nothing happened.

Vegeta's eyes slowly opened as a sinking feeling developed in the pit of his stomach. Again, he tried to channel his ki, and again he was met with failure. Hugging his arms tighter around his shivering, naked form, he rose unsteadily to his feet. He brought one hand up before his face as he attempted to form a ball of ki. Nothing. Vegeta stared at his empty hand.

"…What the _fuck_?" he breathed. He could feel his unique ki signature trapped deep within him - the energy that comprised his soul and infused ever cell in his body - but he couldn't channel the universal life force through it. It was as though he was cut off from it…so far away it was beyond even detection. He released a shaky breath into the chill air. Something other than the cold but just as petrifying began to creep through him, and his heart started to pound with what was beginning to feel like fear.

"Welcome, Touketsu. We have been waiting for you for some time."

Vegeta whirled around in the direction of the voice and instinctively raised his palm out for a Big Bang Attack. He heard a dark chuckling, followed by more in every direction.

A looming form roughly 10 feet tall emerged from the darkness, followed by slightly shorter ones - hundreds like it - from all sides. The towering creatures were vaguely humanoid and were draped in cloaks seemingly made from shadows, their torsos and arms clad in murky, ice-like armor. A single wing of icy shards grew from the base of the creatures' backs, some on their left hand sides while for others on their right. They didn't appear to have feet, their smoke-like robes reaching all the way to the ground. They wore helmets that partially concealed their faces in translucent, smoky ice. The beings looked like corpses left on a mountainside, their pallid skin mottled and covered in frost. Their eyes were jet-black.

"You won't be able to channel your ki here," the tallest one informed him. Its voice was smooth and deep, echoing softly throughout the cavernous void. A cowl of shadows covered its head and neck, its frozen, cadaverous face uncovered. It wore a helmet of black ice studded with a crown of long, pointed icicles. A pair of rigid, obsidian wings resembling the blades of swords framed its form.

Feeling foolish, Vegeta quickly withdrew his hand. Ignoring the cold biting at his naked skin, he squared his shoulders and glared up at the thing before him. "And why is that?" he demanded.

The shadowy figure regarded Vegeta keenly. "Ki is life. Here, you are far from it".

Vegeta's bravado faltered at that. His mind raced. _What? Where the fuck am I?_ His brow furrowed in growing concern. "What is this place?" he finally asked, doing his best to hide the tremor in his voice. "Am I…" He glanced at the creatures that surrounded him. "…Is this-"

"You are not dead," the crowned one interrupted.

Vegeta returned his attention to it, his mouth slightly agape in confusion. He scowled. "What are you?"

"Yes, you're right. Introductions are in order. We are the Kagemazoku. I am Zhernobog Daimao," he replied, bowing his head slightly. "This is our realm. It was once connected to Otherworld, and it was our responsibility to pass judgement on all souls that arrived here upon their deaths. We fed upon their darkness, and forced them to face their own. Those who harbored more light than dark were eventually permitted to move on to a higher realm. Those who harbored more darkness succumbed to a lower one."

The hairs on the back of Vegeta's neck stood on end. What did these things plan on doing with him? "If this place is no longer a part of Otherworld then what the hell is it?"

"A prison," Zhernobog answered succinctly. "After a virtual eternity of judging the flawed souls that came through here, we began to question our role. Not a single being that passed through here was without darkness. The kais created the multiverse to express beauty, yet these mortals, with their muddled, conflicting souls, existed within it. So long as they were allowed to live among the intended perfection of Creation, they sullied it. Why did we wait for these wretches to cross over to Otherworld before passing judgement? It was during their lifetimes that the poison generated through their internal discord was allowed to grow and flourish. Their inner conflict spilled out to infect others, influencing entire populations. They transformed their very ecosystems into reflections of their imbalanced, toxic hearts and sped the demise of their worlds. We concluded that we would be a far greater service to the kais and Creation by excising these numerous infections before they spread to other worlds."

Vegeta was still processing the notion of multiple universes when he realized what the creature was saying. His brows drew together as he studied the demon's oily, black eyes. "You're speaking of a purge."

"Indeed, we are. So, we sought to traverse onto the physical plane to carry out our cause. The kais did not share our vision, and we were banished back to our realm where we were cut off from the rest of Creation. For immeasurable eons we existed in this limbo. Finally, inexplicably, we sensed energy…an energy beyond this place: Yours."

Vegeta could only stare up at the thing in confusion.

"We knew not of its source or identity. Faint at first, we merely referred to this mysterious energy as the "The Nameless One." Before long, the energy steadily grew greater as it was pushed down directly to us. It resonated throughout the walls of this place. We became familiar with your constant and powerful presence, and we dubbed you Touketsu."

Vegeta frowned deeply at this. "I am Prince Vegeta of the Saiyans. _Prince Vegeta_ is the only title you'll be using when addressing me, got that?"

Zhernobog merely smiled. "Ah - Prince Vegeta," he replied affably, offering a short bow of respect as his underlings followed suit. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you in person."

"Pleasure's all yours, I'm sure," Vegeta bit out. "How did I get here?"

"Your energy has shown to us like a beacon since the first time we felt you. As your power grew, we followed you. At last, thanks to a tenuous connection you forged with your dark psychic energy, we were finally able to reach you. While we could not actually traverse onto your plane, you enabled us to reach through your world's shadows remotely to bring you here."

Vegeta's brows knit together before it dawned on him. _That bizarre shadow…_

"The power you have attained during the course of your life, coupled with your raw, animal emotion, had reached a peak. _You_ forged the bridge that allowed us to reach across your plane and obtain you at last. Thank you, Prince Vegeta."

"…You're welcome," Vegeta said dryly. "Now, what _exactly_ is it you want with me?"

"You are our salvation, for with your aid we can leave this place. As you may now be aware, you have the ability to wield an energy that comes not from your universe but from the darkest recesses of your mind. Combined with your own individual ki, your power is capable of piercing through dimensions. It is this very ability that enabled us to bring you here."

_What?_ Vegeta scowled at this. He had actually heard of this ability, albeit in bedtime stories as a child: tales of Oozaru Saiyans whose power could tear through the fabric of time and space itself. Laughable. Yet…the tales of the Legendary Super Saiyan turned out to be very true…

Zhernobog continued. "Cultivate this innate power, and you can create a gateway from here back to your world…to Otherworld…all throughout space and time. Through you, we will be able to begin our campaign."

Vegeta blinked. "Wait," he demanded, holding out a hand. "Your _campaign_?"

"Yes, Prince Vegeta. We have spent a long time here in rumination, and we have come to the conclusion that the kais are every bit as flawed as their Creation. There is no unity. The proof of it is in the mortals they created. Every single one of them houses not one but two souls: two energies that battle and rip each other apart, their violence and constant conflict spilling out around them. Mortals are two-headed monsters, all of them. They and all of Creation are of endless, spinning chaos and upheaval. There is no peace. We were created to feed off the darkness supplied by these mortals. It is their darkness that expanded our army. At last, we will use our attributes and the strength of our army to fulfill the highest calling. We will put an end to the warring and the conflict. We will make Creation a reflection of our realm: A cool and quiet place, frozen in perfect balance. With the energy harvested from our conquest of the physical plane, our army will become unstoppable. We will then subjugate Otherworld and the flawed beings that are the gods themselves. The multiverse will at last achieve everlasting peace."

Vegeta stared up at the demon king incredulously. "Peace and balance? What the hell kind of balance is that - purging entire worlds out of existence? Purging existence itself!" he sputtered. "Fool, there will be nothing left! That's not balance, it's death!"

Zhernobog Daimao's lip twitched imperceptibly over Vegeta's audacity. "This is our calling. As a mortal, you cannot understand," he replied evenly. The demon king studied Vegeta shrewdly for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice had taken a stern tone. "We have only ever judged those such as yourself. You are not exempt, Prince Vegeta. But, serve in our army, and you will be redeemed. Your darkness, like ours, will at last have purpose, and you will gain power greater than you have ever known."

Tensing, Vegeta realized that he was the only thing standing in the way of these things' twisted goals. He snorted, narrowing his eyes as he looked up at Zhernobog. "And why the hell would I do that? Just what kind of power could I possibly wield when _I'd_ be serving _you_? You're not exactly selling this." Vegeta spat on the ground. "I serve no one."

A wave of grumbles and murmurs coursed through the throng of demons, and their leader frowned. Zhernobog slowly approached and began circling Vegeta, his air of hospitality at last gone. Vegeta stood stock-still, disciplining his body not to tremble in the unforgiving cold and display any weakness. He barely moved his head as he kept his eyes trained on the imposing creature.

After several moments the demon king spoke. "We wished to show you the deference we believed you deserve. How could we not, to our would-be savior? But…" Zhernobog then leaned in menacingly, "…make no mistake that this is _our_ realm you are in, and you WILL answer to us."

The others began to circle Vegeta as well. He looked around at the advancing enemies. "Humph," he grunted. "I suppose this means we're done with decorum." They suddenly closed in, and without thinking twice Vegeta delivered a backhand punch to the nearest Kagemazoku.

It was a foolish and impulsive move; Vegeta's fist merely went through the creature as if it were a shadow. He barely registered what had happened when two demons immediately seized him, pulling his hands behind his back painfully and digging their sharp, gauntlet clad fingers into his arms. Vegeta thrashed and cried out in impotent rage. He had never experienced _anything_ like this before: unable to channel his ki, fighting creatures that could become as insubstantial as air. Vegeta was brilliantly pissed as he tried to twist around, his attention solely on the demons behind him that were holding him fast.

"Get your fucking ice picks off me, bastards!-" He jumped in surprise, his words cut off as Zhernobog's cold, clawed, gauntlet covered hand grasped him firmly by the jaw. The demon king gently turned Vegeta's head up in his direction.

"There is great darkness in your heart. We know this much. It's why we were able to find you. Why is that? Just what is it you have endured?"

With a grunt Vegeta whipped his head out of Zhernobog's grasp. "What is this, a therapy session?" he spat. "You release me NOW or I swear to the gods I will tear you all apart and make you wish you were still in HELL!" Zhernobog ignored his threats as one of the soldiers roughly seized Vegeta by the hair, jerking his head back as the prince snarled with indignation.

"We will show you a way to tap into your power while on _this_ plane. The key to unlocking your abilities lies right…here." He pointed a clawed finger to the center of Vegeta's forehead, the prince's eyes crossing almost comically as he followed the movement. He scowled. _No fucking shit I use my mind to control ki._

Zhernobog withdrew. "Your memories and the emotions attached to them are the impetus behind your power. If you refuse to reconnect with them, we shall have to coax them from you. As long as you repress them, you will never be able to fully unlock your abilities. It is obvious you have been trying to forget. Now, where did it all begin?" the demon king mused to himself. He placed his pointed fingertips on either side of the immobilized prince's temples, the claws like ice shards just barely piercing. Vegeta growled as he attempted to jerk his head away without success. He squeezed his eyes shut. Just what was this thing doing? It didn't exactly hurt. Some pressure, then a sensation as though skeins of thread were being pulled out gently from the sides of his head.

This is what the Kagemazoku needed: his darkest memories. The memories that this ignorant fool refused to reconnect with or even acknowledge. The shadow demons could feel Vegeta's raging emotions through their realm since he was a boy, no matter how little he showed outwardly during his lifetime. Now that he was finally here before them, they could know the actual sources of his rage. His history would be the key. Vegeta growled and jerked his head away as best he could as Zhernobog withdrew. The Kagemazoku king stood motionless, eyes closed and head slightly bowed. Then, a small smile graced his rimy lips. He appeared satiated, as though he had just fed.

Vegeta glared up at the creature. "What did you do?" he hissed.

"Just familiarizing ourselves with the whole of your history." Zhernobog opened his black eyes and locked them with Vegeta's. "So… _Frieza."_

Vegeta froze and the blood drained from his face.

"This Frieza made a deal with your father, the king. He drafted you into his ranks in return for your kingdom's continued allegiance." He looked down at Vegeta pointedly. "He did not honor this treaty, did he?"

Vegeta's breathing quickened and he began to shake with rage.

"He destroyed your planet. He killed your father."

"Stop right there."

"He took you in as a child and forced you into servitude-"

"Stop it!"

"I recall you saying that you serve no one-"

"I SAID SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

"And there is so much more. A "Goku". Or is it "Kakarot"? His power showed you that everything that your father told you about your strength, your nobility, your birthright… was a lie."

Vegeta had ceased to shout. He was speechless with fury.

"You have been obsessed with gaining power. Time after time, it has eluded you. You have been consistently outshone and dominated by others stronger than you. WE will help you gain that strength you seek and use it at last to serve a higher power."

"You mean _yours_?" hissed Vegeta. "Fuck you."

Zhernobog's lips quirked in amusement. "Perhaps some persuasion is in order? I believe the information we just obtained from you will aid us considerably in cultivating your abilities. Allow me to introduce you to my old friend: Tosho."

Zhernobog bowed his head slightly. Faint, greenish particles of light began to swirl from within his chest, glowing dimly from beneath the dark, translucent armor. The light then began to separate into two different colors: one a soft yellow and the other a dim, icy blue. The yellow light was swallowed in the darkness of Zhernobog's body while the blue traveled down the demon's right arm, increasing in intensity as the light particles converged in his hand. Suddenly, Zhernobog's hand shot out to take the form of a long, vicious blade of brackish ice, bitten and corroded by time. Vegeta's eyes widened in alarm as he leaned back unconsciously.

The demon king held Tosho up between them, the particles of light eddying within like fireflies trapped in a jar. "THESE are your darkest memories, Prince Vegeta. _All_ of them…and you will experience them once more."

Vegeta made one last futile attempt to break from the others' grasp when the demon king clapped a hand down onto his right shoulder. Zhernobog positioned the point of the newly imbued blade over Vegeta's heart.

Panicked, Vegeta uttered,"Wait-"

He made a strangled sound as the sword was plunged through his heart. It did not emerge out his back as an ordinary blade would have; it seemed to disappear inside his body. Vegeta began screaming in unbridled agony, the anguished sound rising to a crescendo and reverberating off the cave walls.

He experienced everything all over again: the death of his world; news of the death of his father; the years of humiliation and abuse at the hands of Frieza; his shocking defeat on Earth; his brutal torture and demoralizing death at his master's hands; his future son's death at the hands of Cell; his young son's near death at his own hands. He not only remembered it all, but he _felt_ it; it was all as fresh and painful as it was the first time he experienced it. Only now, it was ALL. AT. ONCE. The crippling emotional torment was lodged in his chest, sucking inward like a black hole deep within his heart. His scream tapered off, his mouth open in a silent scream as the onslaught continued. His eyes, wide with agony, streamed tears of unmitigated pain. He squeezed them shut. His brow furrowed, and he grit his teeth. His chest felt like it was imploding. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't escape his mind. He was imprisoned in his own body, and in that moment all he wanted was death.

Zhernobog withdrew the weapon, and it was absorbed back into his hand. Vegeta, still being held by the others, gasped as he finally opened his eyes, now wide in shock as he panted helplessly. His hair was released and he dropped his head, groaning in agony.

"We know this must be a lot for your body to handle," Zhernobog Daimao said compassionately. Vegeta looked up at his torturer with some effort. "We will take this slowly."

Horror stricken, Vegeta felt as he did on Namek when Frieza was moments away from ending his life before Goku arrived. He felt terrified, helpless, and utterly broken.

"Rest now, and reflect." With that, the Kagemazoku king and his minions melted away, and Vegeta was dropped to the ground on his knees. In shock and shuddering, the prince's hand drifted up to cover his heart before he slumped to his left side onto the cave floor. Curling into a fetal position, he wrapped his other arm around himself in an effort to slow his uncontrollable trembling. He squeezed his eyes shut, his face contorting in pain and growing despair as the lump in his throat threatened to strangle him. "No," he whispered hoarsely.

_Not again._


	7. Undead Memories

**Undead Memories**

_The sounds of carnage and destruction could be heard above the palace's opulent subterranean bunker, dust occasionally raining down from the ceiling as explosions continued to level the city above. A 17 year old soldier stood in the middle of the expansive room, a cocky smirk on his smooth, youthful face. He had a prominent widow's peak, a couple errant locks of hair falling over his forehead. A red scouter covered his left eye, and his arms were crossed over armor that looked almost too big for his lanky frame. It was spattered with blood. All around him lay the dismantled corpses of the palace guards, their red blood streaking the white marble of the floor. Standing anxiously before him was a king, his hair long and white, his silver skin perspiring with fear. His queen cowered just behind him, her flax-blue eyes intense with terror for her family as she shielded her two young sons, one roughly 5 years of age, the other 10._

_The Saiyan's tail unwrapped from his waist to swing lazily behind him as he glanced down at the corpses littering the floor. "That was kind of fun I guess but enough playing," he jested as he half-heartedly kicked aside a nearby severed arm. He looked up to the king. "Pretty fucking stupid of you, old man. Your planet had it good with the Cold Empire. You really thought your pathetic forces and your underhanded little planetary alliances were enough to revolt against Lord Frieza? Is that why you're here cowering underground like some rodent?" he sneered, his already rather gruff voice more befitting a grizzled veteran of war than a young man._

_King Chevalo grit his teeth. He knew he was facing certain execution for this. His life was over as far he was concerned. All he could do now was appeal for the life of his family. "I will go quietly. I only ask that my wife and sons not be harmed."_

" _Pfft. Of COURSE you'll go quietly," The teenager snorted with a roll of his eyes. He smirked. "When you're dead, there's really no other option." In the next instant Vegeta was in front of the king, his right arm buried to the elbow in the regent's chest. The king collapsed over the slight teenager's shoulder, in shock and coughing up blood as he struggled for breath. His family behind him screamed, their pleading wails the antithesis of the young soldier's mocking laughter. Vegeta withdrew his arm, now completely coated in crimson gore. As the king began sinking to his knees, Vegeta grabbed him by the armor with his other hand, hauling him back up and steadying him._

_Vegeta's amused expression grew critical as he studied the sputtering king. "How the hell could someone so weak be the leader of his people?" he snorted, eyeing him with disgust. "Hn. Weak AND stupid. You've done them a great disservice." His eyes flicked over to the hysterical family before returning to the king. "You've done a disservice to both your people AND your family." Vegeta faltered when he noticed the elaborate royal medallion that hung from the king's neck, as though really seeing it for the first time. A thoughtful look came over his face, and his bloody hand drifted up to gingerly graze it. He slid his hand beneath it, cupping it in his palm before slowly looking back up to the king. His youthful countenance suddenly appeared far older than it had any right to be, his black eyes cold._

_He smiled a little, his eyes not lightening in the slightest."That's alright, though," he said, his voice unnervingly quiet as the royal family continued to weep and plead in the background. "Everyone makes mistakes. Sometimes they're made with the best of intentions." A crafty smirk crawled across his face. "We can learn from our mistakes…I think we have a valuable opportunity here. I'm going to impart a little wisdom on your two boys before we conclude our business. Just three little lessons." Vegeta closed his hand into a fist around the medallion. His smirk broadened until he looked completely mad, and he turned his attention to the two terrified boys._

" _Lesson number 1!" He announced. "Attachments are for the weak." With a hard jerk Vegeta yanked the medallion, and its chain sawed through the monarch's neck to instantly decapitate him. Vegeta was coated in a spray of blood; he stood chuckling in morbid amusement as the headless body slumped against his shoulder before falling to the floor._

_Completely panic stricken and now screaming in abject horror, the queen pushed her children behind her and desperately scrambled for one of the rifles from a fallen soldier. The gore streaked teenager turned his attention to her and dropped the medallion. It bounced off the stone floor with a resounding clang before he advanced on them._

_Training the weapon at the boy, the queen fired. With a grin, Vegeta lazily batted the blast aside before flicking a small ki blast that knocked the weapon out of her grasp. He chuckled, his face spattered with blood. "My turn," he smirked, and he pointed his finger out like a pistol. "Bang."_

_The ensuing ki blast went through the woman's stomach and she sank to her knees. He slowly swaggered up to her as the two little boys, hugging each other in terror, tearfully cried out for their mother. He stopped before her and placed a hand on either side of her head, forcing her to look up at him. He wiped the trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth with a bloody, gloved thumb, the pointless act simply smearing more blood across her cheek. He smirked suggestively. "Seems even a queen knows her true place," he chuckled. Her expression was one of agony and helpless fear for her children as he looked up to the boys again. "Lesson number 2, kids: the weak die." He casually broke her neck._

" _MAMA!" they screamed hysterically, tears streaming from their blue eyes._

_Vegeta felt his heart twist before numbness quickly overcame him, and a smug smile tugged at his lips. "Welcome to the world, boys." He raised a glowing palm to them. "Third and final lesson," he intoned, his voice dropping along with his smile. "Death can be a mercy." He fired._

_Vegeta turned away from the two small, burning corpses and began to leave. He stopped when he noticed the blood-slick royal medallion lying on the floor. He bent over and picked it up, running an errant thumb over its surface as he turned it over. It was probably worth a few credits on the black market. Tightening his fist around it, he strode out of the room._

Vegeta did not know how much time had passed as he lay there naked on the icy cave floor, reliving his darkest memories all over again. He had killed so many families just like that one in similar fashion. Thousands. All of them lumped in with the billions upon billions of other lives he took in purges and planetary annihilations. Back then, he never felt remorse; unconsciously, he didn't allow it. After he settled down on Earth, however…after he found himself with a family of his own…the remorse would creep in when he'd awaken from his many nightmares.

Ever since the destruction of his planet he had numbed himself to emotional pain. After a while, he managed to convince himself that he was impervious to his emotions, but they were there. Even when he didn't feel anything, they were chained deep within him, waiting to be unleashed. Unconsciously transmuting his captive pain into rage, he channeled it into all his battles and physical training. It was in battle that he could lose himself and distance his mind from painful thoughts.

That was not an option now. It felt as if that blade of ice was still lodged in his heart. After reviving the memories and their emotional agony, Tosho had left behind an invisible weight in his chest. It was siphoning all the strength from his body, diverting the energy instead to his now overworked mind. In this catatonic state, Vegeta could do nothing. His old memories resurrected, they trudged about in his head like the walking dead to feast upon his brain.

As Frieza's soldier he carried out the tyrant's orders, but he quickly learned to revel in the tasks given to him. It was the only time he felt powerful and in control. Frieza had taken everything from him and yet…Vegeta emulated him. Yes, he did. He hated that man, but he also admired him. He wanted to _be_ like him. _That_ was what true power looked like: being afraid of nothing and answering to no one. Frieza commanded an army larger and more powerful than any other in the universe. Power like that meant never being subjugated. Frieza had been a part of Vegeta's life far longer than his father had. For all intents and purposes, Frieza was his father figure.

_Frieza sat in his levitating chair, a glass of wine in hand as he gazed out at the Planet Luscep through the immense viewport. The purge had gone well; the rebellion had been quelled, and in addition the planet yielded a number of valuable resources. He returned his attention to the holographic display before him, swiping through the pages. Per his request, Frieza had received the performance reports on the promising up and coming individuals assigned to the mission._

_He chuckled a little upon reading Vegeta's report. At 17 standard cycles of age, Vegeta had an unparalleled thirst for carnage and an incredible talent for perpetrating it. His already violent appetites had exploded with the onset of his adolescence, and they only continued to grow. Still, he was becoming increasingly recalcitrant and duplicitous. Frieza continued to read the report, snorting a little in amusement._

" _My, my. He leveled the Luscepian forces and their alliances almost completely on his own. He even went so far as to hunt down the royal family himself. Hm. That was certainly not his responsibility, but I do admire the incentive." Frieza had intended to make an example of King Chevalo and his family, torturing all four of them before dismantling them piece by piece, but what was done was done._

_Frieza continued to swipe through the holographic report. "Hm. The Luscepian Royal Chain of Office is missing, is it?" He chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. "Hm, hm. Pretty audacious and sloppy of the little monkey. The fool boy doesn't think I know he's committed theft before? Hmph, apparently not. Sometimes I think I've pampered him too much." Frieza tsked. "These simian races always seem to go through these annoying little phases when transitioning to adulthood."_

_Frieza's bemused expression slowly turned into a frown as his eyes became distant in thought. Frieza allowed his favorite little pet to get away with a lot, but he always had his eye on him. If it became apparent that Vegeta was pushing his boundaries too far, Frieza saw to it that he was corrected. The theft was a trivial matter. Taking it upon himself to kill the royal family was insubordinate, but not egregious. Those matters were not what concerned him. No, It was the tapped conversation Frieza had received after the purge. Via a private frequency, the little sneak had engaged in some idle chit-chat with his cohorts about becoming the strongest in the known universe. A boy's fantasies. But, still…_

_As much as Frieza denied it - even to himself - he harbored some concern for the Super Saiyan legends he had heard about from the now dead culture. Those legends were a contributing factor in his decision to subjugate Planet Vegeta before he decided to eliminate the possible threat altogether. It was when King Vegeta had lead an attack on his ship in a foolish effort to take back his son that Frieza followed through on the decision._

_If any of the Saiyans could have risen up to overthrow him, to wield the power of the Super Saiyan, it would have been their little prince. At the time, the boy had already exceeded any of the adult Saiyans on the planet in strength. Frieza could have killed the child outright all those cycles ago. Had Vegeta been an adult he would have done so without hesitation. However…a child was malleable. It would have been a shame to let such talent go to waste. He could cultivate that raw power in the boy to serve him and the Planet Trade Organization while exerting his influence over his still-growing mind. Vegeta would become his pet project, his little protege, and the boy would learn his place._

_Frieza took a sip of his wine. It seemed it was again time to reinforce his authority over the boy. He sighed. "It's important to correct a child when the situation calls for it, after all. Coupled with his increasingly rebellious behavior, his little conversation with his underlings is borderline treasonous." Frieza would not reveal the true motivation. Letting on that he harbored concerns about the prince's potential to become The Legendary would only serve to bolster the boy's confidence. No, Vegeta's little transgressions would provide a sufficient smoke screen. He reached up to his scouter and called for an audience with the Saiyans._

_The three Saiyans entered Frieza's command center. They simultaneously each dropped to a knee, one fist to the floor as they bowed their heads in deference. Frieza smirked. "Excellent work on the purging of Planet Luscep, gentleman. You two monkeys can leave now, I would like a word alone with your better."_

_Nappa's head snapped up. "What? What'd you call us in here for?" Vegeta's immense body guard had been fully expecting a bonus for services rendered, what with the way Frieza had called them in and praised them._

_Frieza's smirk remained fixed in place. "I suggest you watch your tone, ape." Nappa quickly rose and took a step forward, fists clenched._

_Vegeta, still genuflecting on the floor, glanced up at the giant Saiyan that was already losing his cool. "Shhh! Shut up, Nappa! Do as he says!"_

" _But,"_

" _Now, Nappa!" He glanced at Radditz. "You too, get out," he said with a flick of his head to the doorway behind them._

_Raditz rose. "Yes, my prince," they both replied as they bowed in respect, each crossing an arm over their chests. Nappa gave Frieza a lingering look before the two Saiyans left the room._

_Frieza swirled the cup of wine in his hand idly, not looking at the prince still kneeling on the floor. "You may rise, Vegeta." The teenager rose as he clenched his hands at his sides, his mouth set in a hard line. "Having a little trouble controlling your men?" Frieza asked casually._

" _No, my lord. They just...get over-excited sometimes," Vegeta grumbled._

" _Hm, hm," Frieza chuckled. "Yes, it can be so hard to find good help. The universe is infinite in its scope and every corner of it seems to be over populated by the inferior. It can make the exceptional truly feel lonely." Frieza paused to take a sip of his wine. "Your performance today was impressive, Vegeta: Ruthless and efficient. I will see to it that you are given a substantial bonus for your efforts."_

_Vegeta's hard features relaxed a bit with the rare praise, and he unconsciously stood a little taller as a sense of pride overcame him. He tipped his head in gratitude, his intense eyes never leaving the tyrant. "Thank you, my lord."_

_Frieza politely nodded in turn. He then levitated out of his floating chair and, turning his back on the prince, walked over to a bar area. He set aside his wine glass and instead pulled out two goblets carved from translucent green stone. He began to fill them both. He turned and walked back to Vegeta, a goblet full of wine in either hand._

" _As a boy you were and still are heads and shoulders above the rest of your kind. You are different from them: you are intelligent and skilled, and your abilities only improve with time. You really are something of a prodigy, as far as Saiyans are concerned, anyway. Until you I had never met what I would call an intelligent Saiyan in my life. You never cease to surprise me. I am gratified that I made the decision to invest in you."_

_Vegeta's ego swelled a little more with the compliments, backhanded though some of them were. Frieza offered Vegeta the goblet. Disarmed, the young prince looked up at Frieza with some uncertainty. He had never received treatment quite like this from the emperor. Frieza was sharing a drink with him? What, like an equal? Frieza only nodded in encouragement, gesturing the goblet to him, and Vegeta finally accepted the proffered drink._

_Frieza smiled. "You and I have much in common, Vegeta. We are two exceptional beings surrounded by fools." Frieza raised his glass for a toast. "To the lonely," he quipped, chuckling. Vegeta just stood there numbly holding his goblet. "Drink, drink, dear boy," Frieza encouraged._

_Hesitating a moment, Vegeta ventured a sip before having a true drink. Frieza imbibed as well, watching the young Saiyan studiously over the rim of his glass. Vegeta swallowed the wine. "Thank you, my lord," he replied, giving a curt nod. He was beginning to get nervous. Was Frieza up to something? Was he testing him? No, that couldn't be it; Frieza was more than satisfied with his performance. His mind raced. He did swipe that medallion, though. Did he know about that? Frieza's soldiers were prohibited from helping themselves to spoils after a purge, though that didn't stop Vegeta from risking it in the past. He'd been getting away with it, too. He was beginning to wish he hadn't tried it this time…_

_Vegeta snapped out of his musings when Frieza spoke to him again. "Now being the intelligent person that you are, I'm sure you don't want to be associated with the likes of those two knuckle-dragging apes, do you? Those stupid monkeys are set in their barbaric ways. Destroying and pillaging what they can…no sense of order or hierarchy. That isn't YOU now is it Vegeta?"_

" _No, my lord," he replied evenly. Beads of sweat broke out over Vegeta's brow and he nervously took another sip. The wine was beginning to taste like bile._

" _That's good to hear, Vegeta. They're complete fools," replied Frieza as he began circling the Saiyan. He stopped right behind him, and the back of the young prince's neck broke out in a cold sweat. He knocked back a good swig. He was beginning to feel like he was going to need it._

" _You don't take ME for a fool, do you Vegeta?" Frieza asked, his voice dropping dangerously. Vegeta nearly choked._

" _No of course not, Lord Frieza," he sputtered, wiping his chin with the back of a gloved hand while he suppressed his coughing. He was feeling sicker by the second._

_Frieza resumed circling Vegeta like a predator sizing up its prey. He stopped to stand in front of him again. "Really? So you're not a thief?"_

_Vegeta's face paled. Then, he winced in pain and his hand went to his stomach._

" _The wine not agreeing with you, Vegeta?"_

_Vegeta looked up at him in surprise when another stabbing sensation ripped through his midsection and his knees buckled. He gasped and began to double over, his teeth gritting in rising pain as he began to lose his grip on the cup._

_Frieza swiftly took the goblet out of his weakening hand. "Here, I'll take that from you. Wouldn't want this to drop and shatter. That would destroy my set. These cups are carved from genuine nefir stone. I don't suppose you've heard of it?"_

_Vegeta could barely hear anything Frieza was saying, the blood that was now pounding in his ears was drowning out everything else. He groaned as he stumbled back a bit before collapsing to his knees, his arms wrapped tight around his stomach as he lowered his face to the floor._

_Frieza continued. "When the minerals in the stone come in contact with certain compounds..say, that found in alcohol, it releases a toxin. For physically exceptional, highly evolved species such as myself it merely enhances the effects of the wine. For more inferior species however, it can be fatal."_

_Vegeta gasped in agony before screwing his eyes shut. His stomach lurched, and he threw up red wine onto the floor. A sharp pain lanced through his head and he continued to vomit as his nose began to bleed. The bleeding quickly becoming a relentless torrent as he completely emptied the contents of his stomach, the red wine giving way to blood. The blood was now gushing from his nose with every uncontrollable dry heave. His stomach felt as though it would implode and his head would split._

_Frieza calmly set aside the two goblets before clasping his hands behind his back. He regarded the convulsing Saiyan impassively. "Yes, a fine performance from you today, Vegeta, but it was not your duty to execute the royal family. Your duty is to follow my orders. Understand?"_

" _Yes, Lord Frieza," Vegeta wheezed before heaving again._

" _Where is the item you stole, Vegeta?"_

_Vegeta made no attempt to deny the theft. "It's in our barracks, under my bunk," he ground out, his teeth clenched in pain._

" _I'm glad you decided to show some kind of sense. I meant it when I said you are intelligent, Vegeta. I was sincere when I said you were different from those other monkeys. You are stronger, more skilled, smarter. Superior in every way. I speak the truth when I say that we both have some things in common. But…you are not on the same level as I, understand? At the end of the day you are only a Saiyan. The Saiyans were an inferior race. That is why they are extinct. I outrank you in intelligence and cunning. I outrank you in fortitude, and I outrank you in sheer power, physical prowess, and skill. Is that perfectly clear now?"_

" _Yes, my lord," Vegeta panted, his now pale face coated in a sheen of sweat._

" _Remove your armor."_

_Shaking, Vegeta looked up as the blood continued to stream from his nose. "What?" he choked, blood bubbling from his mouth._

_Frieza glared impatiently. "I won't have good equipment destroyed."_

_Vegeta realized Frieza's disciplinary action was far from over. Slowly, painfully, he pushed himself up and shakily unfastened the armor. He tossed it aside, leaving him in his blue uniform._

_Frieza approached to stand over the kneeling Saiyan. "You're going to benefit from this; therefore this can hardly be considered a punishment, even though your transgressions make you deserving of one," he spoke as he gently removed the scouter from Vegeta's left ear. Frieza tossed it aside before turning back to the shuddering Saiyan. "That is one of the most miraculous things about Saiyans…how you and your kind become stronger after near-death. While painful, you will ultimately be stronger for it, my pet. I will help make you one of my most powerful soldiers."_

Frieza beat Vegeta nearly to death even as his organs began to shut down from the effects of the poison. It had not been the first time he was beaten to within an inch of his life, and it would not be the last. "To aid you in reaching your potential," Frieza would say. Aside from capitalizing on a Saiyan's innate physiological ability to become stronger after surviving near death, Vegeta knew that Frieza was demonstrating to the Saiyan just how strong he was. For a long time it quashed from his young mind any notion of overthrowing the tyrant. Without words, Frieza told him exactly what would happen if he ever dared defy him.

After all those years living and working under Frieza's influences, he hadn't even realized how much like him he had been becoming. Vegeta had come from a bloodthirsty culture, one that reveled in war and victories won on the battlefield. Frieza and his army had been no different; his influence was almost inseparable from the ways of the Saiyan race that had already been instilled in him as a child. What Vegeta had failed to begin noticing, however, was how he had gradually come to despise his own dead race. Frieza called them stupid monkeys. When Vegeta looked at his only surviving Saiyan cohorts, Nappa and Radditz, he found himself agreeing. They _were_ stupid: stupid, reckless, impulsive animals. They claimed that they swore their allegiance to the sole surviving heir to the Saiyan throne. However, on the battlefield, his commands often fell upon deaf ears. When lost in the throes of battle, they listened to nothing.

As he grew older, he held onto the title of "prince", that title that made him feel superior to others and over his dead race, but he felt no fealty or responsibility to his kind. They were gone. Dead. Dead because they were weak, and the weak deserved to die. He was not weak; he would not be one of them. He would worry about his own survival. He would play the game and live for the day that he would wrest control of Frieza's empire from him. That was all that mattered. He no longer gave a shit about his dead race. His sense of vengeance and honor would be solely and completely for himself. The callousness and indifference to his race and his culture only grew with time as he sought to be more like the all powerful Frieza, and he continued to distance himself from the two idiots that only made him feel ashamed of himself. He was embarrassed to be considered one of them.

By the time Raditz died on Earth, Vegeta truly felt nothing. When Nappa, who noticed Gohan's power, suggested they could resurrect the Saiyan race with their own hybrids, Vegeta had scoffed. He had meant it when he said he didn't want half-Saiyans around that could overpower him. That was exactly what Frieza had feared. No, absolute power was what Vegeta wanted. He would serve no one ever again, least of all his worthless, undeserving people. His father had handed him over to Frieza to preserve their people and their planet. As far as he was concerned, It wasn't just his father but _they_ that ensured his slavery under the Cold Empire.

On Earth, Nappa's persistent bull-headedness as he battled the Z Senshi nearly pushed Vegeta's patience - already stretched thin over the years - to the brink. That dumb fuck NEVER listened. Nappa finally deferred to Vegeta's orders to cease his fight with Kakarot only to turn around and deliberately antagonize the Earth Saiyan by attacking his son and friend. Nappa got his back broken by his opponent through his own stupidity. Vegeta had become gripped completely with a coldness that had been stalking him for years. That overgrown monkey had ignored his commands for the last time. His heart was frozen when he gripped his fallen comrade's hand, outstretched in a plea for help. It was without a second thought that he threw him into the air and, in an impulsive rage, disintegrated his body with a powerful ki blast. He brutally brushed aside the expression of shock and betrayal on his life-long subject's face, numbing himself. He never dwelled on it.

…Not until he was brought back to life after dying on Namek.

Frieza destroyed what he had created. As Vegeta lay dying in the Namekian soil, he finally saw with torturous clarity that the heir to the Saiyan throne had died a slow death long ago under Frieza's influence. He had lost his mind. He realized, too late, that he had become Frieza himself: a tyrant that looked down his nose at the Saiyan race. After Vegeta was revived by the Dragon Balls, he later came to realize that a part of him was left dead on Namek, now dust on the solar winds. He was grateful for that. It was sobering to realize that his hated rival was the one to begin reviving his Saiyan pride during the course of events on Namek. It was Kakarot who renewed his faith in the tales of The Legendary. Kakarot, ignorant Earther though he was, turned out to be a true Saiyan. The Saiyan prince, meanwhile, had been twisted into an image of the Saiyan people's oppressor.

Vegeta lay on his left side, his hand still over his heart and his arm wrapped tightly around his trembling body. His eyes drifted closed. _Nappa,_ he thought morosely. _I'm sorry._


End file.
